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FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

AND HEROES OF THE BORDER 



FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES 

BY 
CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON 

Each one volume, large 1 2mo, Illustrated, 
$1.50 

A* 

(FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS 
FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS 
FAMOUS SCOUTS 
FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN 
FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

J* 

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 

53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. 




DANIEL MORGAN. 



Famous Frontiersmen 

AND HEROES OF THE BORDER 

Their adventurous lives and stirring 
experiences in Pioneer days 



By 
CHARLES H.vL. JOHNSTON 

Author of "Famous Cavalry Leaders," "Famous Indian 
Chiefs," " Famous Scouts," etc. 



Illustrated 




BOSTON L. C. PAGE & 
COMPANY-^ MDCCCCXIII 






<L> 



Copyright, igi3, by 

L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 



First Impression, November, 1913 



THE COLONIAL PRESS 
C. H. 8IMONDS & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A. 



€)aA358126 



DEDICATED 
TO THE 

3JSos Scouts 

OF THE WORLD 



Thanks are due the Librarians of Congress, 
The Boston Public Library, and Harvard 
University, for numerous courtesies ex- 
tended to the Author during the prepara- 
tion of this volume. 



PREFACE 

My dear Boys; and particularly the Boy 
Scouts: As so much interest was displayed in my 
book " Famous Scouts " and requests for more tales 
were made by many of you, I have collected some 
interesting stories of valiant and daring adventurers, 
who were among the early settlers of the wilderness. 
These men were real scouts and trappers, for they 
lived in the wilds and had to know how to shoot a 
rifle ; how to trap ; and how to camp in whatever place 
night happened to overtake them. Savage men and 
wild beasts were frequently encountered, and desper- 
ate were the fights which these fellows engaged in. 
Some of them lived to a happy and prosperous old 
age; some perished from exposure, or by the hands 
of their red enemies. 

You, yourselves, are playing at scouting in cities, 
in villages, and in a country which long since has been 
populated by the whites. These hardy, old fellows 
did not play at scouting, for it was their real existence, 
and they had to know the game from boyhood. Their 
deeds may seem to be atrocious and bloodthirsty, but 
were they not surrounded by implacable enemies who 
had no mercy upon them when they caught them un- 
awares ? 

When I was in Harvard College our Professor of 

vii 



viii PREFACE 

English — Dean LeBaron Russell Briggs — used to 
advise us to " browse in the Library." I followed his 
advice in regard to these stories, and, after brushing 
away the cobwebs from many a forgotten volume, 
have been able to give you the accurate histories of 
several important frontiersmen and heroes of the 
border. These tales are all true and are vouched for 
by early historians. All that I hope is that I have 
served them up to you in a manner that is interesting 
and is not dull. Believe me. 

Yours very affectionately, 

Charles H. L. Johnston. 



THE FRONTIERSMAN 

He stood 'neath the whispering pines, by his cabin, 
Lanky and gaunt, his face seamed and scarred, 
Knotted his hands and blackened with toiling, 
Bronzed well his face; his pahns rough and hard. 
Strangely he gazed in the dim, filmy distance. 
Gazed, as the smoke from the fire curled and swayed, 
Rapt was his look, for a voice from the forest 
Spoke — and in accents disquieting — said: 

Come! freeman! come! to the swirl of tlie river, 
Come! where the wild bison ranges and roams, 
Come! where the coyote and timber wolves whimper. 
Come! where tlte prairie dogs build their rough homes. 
Come to the hills where the blossoms are swaying, 
Come to the glades where the elk shrills his cry, 
Come — for the wild canyon echoes are saying, 
Come — otdy come — climb my peaks to the sky. 

A thrill shook the frame of the woodsman and trapper, 
A strange light of yearning came to his eye. 
Restless and roving by nature, — this wanderer, 
Shuddered and paled at the wild, hidden cry; 
Trembling he turned towards the hut in the shadow, 
Shaking he strode to the low, darkened door, 
Then stopped, — as sounded the voice from the meadow, 
Mutt'ring the challenge — o'er and o'er. 

Come, will you come, where the brown ouzel nesUes, 
Come, where the waterfall dashes and plays, 
Come, where the spike-horn rollicks and wrestles. 
On a carpet of moss, in the warm Autumn haze; 
The cloud banks are blowing o'er Leidy and Glenrock, 
On Wessex and Cassa the sun hides its head. 
Come, will you come, where the trout leaps in splendor. 
Come, only come, let the veldt be your bed. 
vs. 



THE FRONTIERSMAN 

By the rough, oaken chair lay the grim, shining rifle. 
On a nail o'er the fire swung the curled powder-horn, 
With a smiling grimace he seized on these weapons, 
Wild emblems of conquest, — storm-battered and worn. 
" Stay," whirred the loom, as it stood in the shadow, 
" Stay," purred the cat, as it lay near the stove, 
" Stay where the woodbine and iris are traiUng, 
Stay, only stay, calm this spirit to rove." 

But, " come," shrilled the voice on the dim, distant prairie, 
" Came, where the Cheyennes are roving and free, 
Where the beavers are damming the wild, rushing ice stream, 
Where the lean puma sftarls in the shaggy, pine tree. 
Come — for the call of the wild is resounding, 
From Laramie's peaks rolls the smoke of the fire. 
Lighted by scouts, where the herds are abowiding, 
Fattened and sleek, for the red man's desire." 



Thus came the call, and thus trekked the plainsman, 
Westward, yet westward his grim step led on. 
By the wide, sedgy steppes, where the Platte curled and whispered, 
By the brackish salt lake, stretching gray 'neath the sun. 
Where the purple, red flowers in clusters lay glist'ning. 
Where the wild kestrel whirled o'er the precipice sheer. 
He conquered the wild, while the grizzly stood list'ning, 
And growled, as the white canvased wagons drew near. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface vii 

The Frontiersman ix 

Daniel Morgan: The Famous Virginian Rifleman, and His 

Adventures with the Indian Bear i 

James Harrod: Founder of Harrodsburg, Kentucky, and 

Famous Scout of the Frontier 8 

Robert McLellan: Pluckiest of the Early Pioneers . ig 
Colonel Benjamin Logan: The Intrepid Fighter of the 

Kentucky Frontier 51 

George Rogers Clarke: Famous Leader of the Borderland 

of Kentucky 64 

John Slover: Scout under Crawford and Hero of Extraor- 
dinary Adventures 84 

Lewis Wetzel: Heroic Virginia Frontiersman and Implac- 
able Enemy of the Redskins 103 

Samuel Colter: And His Wonderpul Race for Life 122 
Meshack Browning: The Celebrated Bear Hunter of the 

Alleghanies 129 

" Bill " Bent: Hero of the Old Santa Fe Trail . . .167 

Thomas Eddie: The Last of the Old School Trappers . 181 
Jim Bridger: Founder of Bridger, Wyoming, and Famous 

Indian Fighter 200 

" Old Bill " Williams: The Famous Log Rider of Colorado 213 
" Big Foot " Wallace: Noted Ranger on the Texan Fron- 
tier 223 

Captain Jack Hays: Famous Texan Ranger and Commander 

OF Valiant Border Fighters 257 

Bill Hamilton: Famous Trapper, Trader, and Indian Fighter 279 
Uncle Job Witherspoon: And His Exciting Adventures 

with the Blackfeet 301 

Henry Shane: Heroic Scout of the Plains of Texas . .314 
Poor Jerry Lane: The Lost Trapper of Wyoming . .337 

The Song of the Moose 351 

Retrospect 355 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Daniel Morgan . . . Frontispiece ]^ 

James Harrod 8 1^ 

Battle of Fallen Timbers zg ^ 

" Began to lug him back to the fort " 54 *■' 

George Rogers Clarke 648/' 

John Slover 84* 

Indians torturing a prisoner ....... 08 

" He now turned and ran as fast as he was able — loading 

AS HE WENT " Io8 1/ 

" There was ever the danger of an onrush by the red- 
skins " 139 *^ 

" Had killed innumerable braves in open conflict " . . 167 u-'' 

Jm Bridger 200 ^ 

" Big Foot " Wallace 225 i/' 

" Uncle Bill " Hamilton 279 i - 

An Indian Buffalo Hunt 283 

A Comanche Warrior 330 

" Lured to their end by the low, soothing cry " . . 354 



Famous Frontiersmen 

AND HEROES OF THE BORDER 



DANIEL MORGAN: 

THE FAMOUS VIRGINIAN RIFLEMAN, AND 

HIS ADVENTURES WITH THE 

INDIAN BEAR 

DANIEL MORGAN was a famous Virginian 
rifleman. As a young man he enlisted in the 
French and Indian War, and joined an army 
under Colonel St. Clair, who, as you remember, no 
doubt, was so signally defeated by Little Turtle.^ The 
bravery of St. Clair sometimes amounted to rashness. 
His enemies have even accused him of indiscretion. 
At any rate, when camped near the head waters of the 
Mississippi, on the plains of the Chippewa, he placed 
his men near a dense forest, in which his redskinned 
enemies could easily pick off his sentinels without ex- 
posing themselves, in the least, to danger from return 
fire. 

For five nights his army lay in this position, and 
for five nights a sentinel was posted near the gloomy 
borders of the forest. Alas ! Every man who had held 
the place was shot. This struck terror to the hearts 

* See " Famous Indian Chiefs." 
1 



2 FAMOUS FKONTIERSMEN 

of the soldiers, and, when a sentinel was to be posted 
upon the sixth night, no one would come forward to 
take the position, without a serious protest. St. Clair 
knew that it was only throwing away men's lives to 
place a sentinel in such an exposed situation, so he 
insisted upon no one occupying it. This pleased his 
followers mightily. " Colonel," said many, " you are 
a sensible man." 

Upon the evening of the sixth day, however, a rifle- 
man from the Virginia corps appeared before the Colo- 
nel's tent. His name was Daniel Morgan. 

" Sir," he remarked, saluting, " I feel that I can 
take charge of this post. Put me there and see what 
I can do." 

St. Clair looked at him dubiously. 

" I think that you are rather rash," said he. " But 
you can have what you desire. Go, and good luck to 
you, my son." 

Soon afterwards, the new guard marched up. The 
scout fell in behind, shouldered his rifle, and went 
forward. 

" I'll return safely," said he, as he followed the lead- 
ing files. " And, Colonel St. Clair, I will drink your 
health in the morning." 

The new guard marched on, arrived at the place 
which had been so fatal to the sentries, and here 
halted. Bidding his fellow soldiers " Good night," 
the sentry brought his gun to order arms and peered 
about him. The night was a dark one. Thick clouds 
overspread the heavens and hardly a star was to be 
seen. Silence reigned, save for the beat of the retir- 



DANIEL MORGAN 3 

ing footsteps of the guard. The frontiersman paced 
slowly up and down, then stopped, for in the far dis- 
tance came the cry of " All is well! " 

Seating himself upon a fallen tree, the soldier fell 
into a reverie, but, hark! what was that? A low, 
rustling sound came from out the bushes. He gazed 
intently towards the spot whence the noise seemed to 
proceed, but he could see nothing but the impenetrable 
gloom of the forest. Nearer and nearer came the 
strange rustling and a well-known grunt informed 
him that a large bear was approaching. Slowly the 
animal came on — then quietly sought the thicket to 
the left of his position. 

At this particular moment the clouds drifted away 
from the face of the moon, so that the soldier could 
plainly see the lumbering brute. What was his sur- 
prise, when he viewed a deer-skin legging and two 
moccasined feet sticking out from the bottom of the 
animal, where should have been two furry legs. He 
could have shot the strange beast in a moment, but 
he did not know how many other quadrupeds of a like 
nature might be at hand. His fingers dropped from 
his rifle trigger, and, taking off his hat and coat, he 
hung them to the branch of a fallen tree, then silently 
crept toward the thicket. Crouching low behind some 
scrub bushes, he heard the twang of a low bow-string, 
and an arrow, whizzing past his head, told him that he 
had guessed correctly when he supposed that other 
redskins were near by. A low murmur of voices came 
from the bushes on the right. 

The sentry gazed carefully about him. Pressing the 



4 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

brush aside, he saw the form of a man, then of several 
more. He counted their numbers and found that there 
were twelve in all, some sitting, some lying full length 
upon the thickly strewn leaves of the forest. Believ- 
ing that the whizzing arrow had laid the sentinel low, 
and, little thinking that there was any one within hear- 
ing, they conversed aloud about their plans for the 
morrow. 

" These men are few," said one. " We will have 
forty warriors ready in the evening. We will shoot 
an arrow into the sentry, and then will attack the 
camp." 

" Ugh ! Ugh ! " said another. " It will be easy to 
overcome these palef aced warriors. This will be done. 
There are but a few men who come out with the sen- 
try, and these we can readily take care of." 

" Ah ! " said a third. " How pleasant it will be to 
see the palefaces running homeward. It will be good. 
It will be good." 

Eagerly the sentry scanned these men. He watched 
them as they rose, and saw them draw the numerous 
folds of their robes about them. He trembled, as they 
marched off in single file through the forest, in order 
to seek some distant spot, where the smoke of their 
fire could not be seen by the whites, and where they 
would not be followed, when the supposedly dead 
sentry was found by his comrades. Then, rising from 
his crouching position, the frontiersman returned to 
his post. His hat had an arrow in it, and his coat was 
pierced by two of them. 

" By George," said he, " I was lucky to escape." 



DANIEL MORGAN 5 

Wrapping himself in his long coat, he returned imme- 
diately to the camp, and, without delay, demanded to 
speak to Colonel St. Clair. 

" I have something very important to say to Colonel 
St. Clair," said he, to the guard before his tent. 

When the soldier reported his request, his com- 
manding officer ordered that he be immediately ad- 
mitted to his presence. 

" You have done well," remarked St. Clair, after 
hearing his story. " Furthermore, I commission you 
Lieutenant of the Virginia corps, to take the place of 
your unfortunate comrade, Lieutenant Phipps, who 
died three nights ago. You must be ready to-morrow 
evening, with a picket guard, to march to the fatal 
outpost, there to place your hat and coat upon the 
branches, and then to lie in ambush for the intruders." 

" I shall be glad to carry out your commands," re- 
plied the newly appointed Lieutenant, smiling broadly. 

According to order given out by Colonel St. Clair, 
a detachment of forty riflemen, with Lieutenant Mor- 
gan at their head, marched from the camp at half-past 
seven on the following evening. Putting up a couple 
of stakes, they arranged a hat and coat upon them so 
as to resemble the appearance of a soldier standing on 
guard, and then stole silently away in order to hide 
in the bushes. 

For an hour they lay quiet, intently listening for the 
approach of the redskins. The night was cold and 
still. A full moon shed its lustrous radiance over field 
and forest. Snow was upon the ground, and becom- 
ing chilled by contact with the cold sprinkling of fleecy 



6 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

white, some of the soldiers began to grumble quite 
audibly. 

" Silence ! " whispered Lieutenant Morgan. " I 
hear the rustling of leaves, and it is evident that either 
a bear, or some red men are approaching." 

All crouched low and watched intently. Presently 
a large, brown bear emerged from the thicket and 
passed near the ambush. 

" Hist ! " whispered a soldier. " Look at his feet ! " 

Sure enough, moccasins were sticking out below. 
The bear reconnoitered ; saw the sentinel standing at 
his post; retired into the forest for a few paces; then 
rose and let fly an arrow which brought the make- 
believe sentinel to the ground with a crash. The ani- 
mal stood there looking at his handiwork with inter- 
est. So impatient were the Virginians to avenge the 
death of their comrades, that they could scarcely wait 
until the Lieutenant gave the word to fire. Then, 
rising in a body, they let drive a volley. The bear 
dropped instantly to the snow-covered ground, and a 
number of red warriors, who had crept up behind him, 
were also dispatched. Quickly loading, the frontiers- 
men made a dash into the forest, again fired, and 
killed, or wounded, several more of the enemy. They 
then marched back to camp, highly pleased and elated 
at their easy victory. Ten savages had fallen before 
the deadly aim of their rifles, and there was wailing 
and lamentation among the women of the Chippewa 
nation. 

But how about Lieutenant Morgan ? 

This doughty soldier rose to be a captain, and, at 



DANIEL MORGAN 7 

the termination of the French and Indian campaign, 
returned to his home, near Winchester, Virginia, 
where he Hved on his farm until the breaking out of 
the War of the Revolution. Then, at the head of a 
corps of Virginian riflemen, he attained great fame 
and renown ; was present at many an important battle, 
and rendered signal service to the American cause. 
But he never forgot the bear who walked with the 
feet of a man. 



JAMES HARROD: 

FOUNDER OF HARRODSBURG 

KENTUCKY, AND FAMOUS SCOUT OF THE 

FRONTIER 

DANIEL BOONE — the founder of Kentucky 
— was revered, respected, and admired by the 
early pioneers. He was, as you know, a man 
of much skill in woodcraft, and was also an unex- 
celled rifle shot. Another early settler of this border 
state was James Harrod, of whom we have but little 
record, for he was a lover of solitude and his expedi- 
tions into the wilderness were usually taken alone. 
Furthermore, he was the most modest of men and 
never wrote or spoke of his own deeds. A little 
knowledge of his adventures, however, has come down 
to us, and we are sure that he was one of the bravest 
of the brave. To a noble courage was added a great 
gentleness of manner which, in another, might almost 
be called efifeminacy. 

What drove this valiant soul into the wilderness of 
Kentucky? What spirit moved his restless footsteps 
into the virgin forest? How came he to penetrate into 
that " dark and bloody ground ? " Who knows ? His 
was the restless spirit and his was the soul which loved 

8 




JAMES HARROD. 



JAMES HARROD 9 

the vast solitude of the wildwood ; for — even earlier 
than Daniel Boone — we know that this sinewy fron- 
tiersman built a log cabin for himself at the present 
site of Harrodsburg. When Boone went to the as- 
sistance of the surveyors of Lord Dunmore, who were 
surrounded by the red men, Harrod returned to Vir- 
ginia and joined a force of whites sent to repel the 
Shawnees and other savages at Point Pleasant on the 
Great Kanawha. He was under General Lewis in the 
bloody affair, and then, having done his duty by his 
white brethren, returned to Kentucky in order to make 
Harrodsburg a place of refuge for the immigrants, 
who were beginning to turn their steps towards the 
setting sun. 

One day, as he sat before his cabin busily engaged 
in cleaning his rifle, a man ran up to him. He was 
plainly excited, and was breathing heavily, as if labor- 
ing under a severe mental strain. 

" Bad news, comrade ! " said he, when he had 
partly recovered his breath. " Jim Bailey's cabin has 
been attacked by the red men and no one is alive to tell 
the tale, save his two daughters, who have been car- 
ried away by the savages in the direction of their vil- 
lage. Unless a party hurries immediately in pursuit, 
they will be taken to the tribe and will be never seen 
again. Their fate will not be a pleasant one." 

The frontiersman jumped to his feet immediately. 

" I will go at once," said he. " You warn the other 
settlers and send all that you can after me. Now, there 
is no time to be lost! " 

Seizing his powder-horn and pouch of bullets, he 



10 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

was soon speeding through the forest. He knew well 
where the cabin lay, and, as he burst through the tan- 
gled woodland, saw that a terrific fight had occurred 
around the little log fortress in the wilderness. Smoke 
still came from the chimney. The windows were bat- 
tered and broken. The door was a splintered wreck. 
And, as he gazed inside, he saw the evil work of the 
vindictive redskins. The tracks of the murderers were 
plain, for a rain had fallen and it was evident that 
eight or ten had been in the party. 

" Curses upon you, Shawnees ! " cried Harrod, in 
loud tones. *' You will pay for this ere many days 
are o'er! " 

It was near midday. The scout took one lingering 
glance at the wreckage of that once peaceful home, 
then turned and followed the trail of the savages. It 
was clear, and he saw — after an hour's travel — that 
the Indians had separated. One half had gone toward 
tlie Indian towns. One half had sheered off toward 
a settlement, about fifteen miles below. Presuming 
that the Indians would take the girls to the settlement 
by the nearest route, he followed the first trail, and, 
as night came on, was delighted to see a camp-fire 
before him, in the dense woodland. 

With true woodsman's cunning, the scout dropped 
to his knees and cautiously wormed a way toward 
the glimmering embers. Peeping over a fallen log, 
he saw that there were five Indians lying near the 
blaze. His heart now beat tumultuously — for there, 
also, were the two captive girls. They were bound 
with deer thongs, and, even at that distance, he could 



JAMES HAEROD 11 

mark the misery expressed upon their pale counte- 
nances. 

It was too early for the lone woodsman to attempt 
to make an attack. With the courage of a lion he in- 
tended to do this single-handed. You think it a haz- 
ardous adventure, no doubt? Wait, and see how he 
fared ! 

Creeping to a large oak, he put his back against it 
and went to sleep " with one eye open," as the hunters 
call it. He slumbered peacefully until about twelve 
o'clock — then rose and again wriggled towards the 
fire in order to see how matters stood. All the 
savages were lying down, save one, who seemed to 
be keeping guard over the others. But even he 
was sleepy. His head nodded drowsily upon his 
breast. 

The scout vv'atched him intently, while his right 
hand grasped his tomahawk. The savage seated him- 
self, then got up, yawned, and lay down by the side 
of his companions. Harrod saw his opportunity, and, 
leaning his rifle against a tree, began to crawl towards 
the camp. 

You can be well assured that the seasoned frontiers- 
man made little noise as he did so. But he was sud- 
denly forced to stop. The Indian sentinel arose, 
stretched himself, and walked towards the place where 
the scout lay prostrate upon some green moss. Every 
nerve in the Kentuckian was a-quiver. He was all 
prepared to make one desperate leap upon the foe. 
But, as he was about to spring upward, the Indian 
turned back and lay down. 



12 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

The avenger of Jim Bailey's family now began to 
crawl towards the camp. Luck was not with him. A 
stick snapped beneath his left hand, and, as it cracked 
like the report of a pistol, the Shawnee sentinel sprang 
hastily to his feet. Looking furtively around, he 
stirred the fire and squatted down beside it. Harrod, 
meanwhile, crouched close to the moist earth, praying 
— beneath his breath — that the Indian would again 
lie down. Minute after minute passed. The redskin 
still stirred the embers with a long twig, and, fearing 
that day would break before he would accomplish his 
object, the bold pioneer began to retreat towards the 
tree where he had left his rifle. As he wormed his 
way backwards, he saw the guard stretch himself out 
by the side of his companions. The scout breathed 
easier. 

Reaching the tree where his rifle stood, he took it 
up, and again began his cautious wriggle towards the 
fire. This time luck was with him, for he crept right 
up to the side of the sleeping savages. 

Lest you think I am exaggerating this affair, I will 
here quote an authentic historian. He says : " To 
draw his tomahawk and brain two of the sleeping In- 
dians was but the work of a moment, and, as he was 
about to strike the third one, the handle turned in his 
fingers, and the savage received the blow on the side 
instead of the centre of his head. He awoke with a 
yell. It was his last. Grasping his weapon more 
firmly, the frontiersman struck the fellow a surer 
blow and dropped him lifeless to the ground. With 
a terrific whoop he now sprang for his rifle just as 



JAMES HARROD 13 

the two other Indians rose to escape, and, firing ha- 
stily, one of them fell to rise no more." 

The other red man scampered into the forest as 
fast as his sinewy legs could carry him. The scout 
was after him as hard as he, too, could go, but the 
savage could run like a deer and proved to be too fleet 
for the trapper. Harrod stopped, and, taking careful 
aim, threw his tomahawk at his enemy. So sure was 
his missile hurled that it lopped off one of the Indian's 
ears and cut a deep gash in his cheek. In spite of the 
grievous wound the savage did not halt, but bounded 
away like a Virginian deer. Harrod stood for a 
while, laughing at the running brave, then slowly 
turned and made his way back to camp. Here he 
found the two captive girls, crying bitterly. He un- 
bound them, received their joyous thanks, was em- 
braced by both; and then took them upon the trail 
to the settlement. Imagine the joy of the frontiers- 
men when they saw them return, and, although a party 
had started out to track the Indians, they had only 
travelled about three miles from Harrodsburg when 
they met the triumphant pioneer. 

"Hurrah! Hurrah for Harrod!" they shouted. 
" You are indeed a worthy scout ! Hurrah ! Hur- 
rah!" 

The two girls were carried upon the men's shoulders 
into camp, and there were given a feast of welcome. 
They were embraced by the women, hugged by the 
children, and were presented with a wreath of flowers 
by the men. As for Harrod, his modesty forbade him 
taking part in the ceremonies, and, leaving the next 



14 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

day upon a hunting excursion, he was not heard or 
seen until a week later, when he returned with several 
deer and bear skins. 

Shortly after this thrilling adventure the scout went 
into the forest in search of game. Not far from the 
settlement he spied a fat deer. He drew a careful 
bead on him, and was just about to raise his rifle for 
a shot when he heard the buck whistle and saw him 
raise his head. He knew from this that the forest 
rover had scented some hidden foe, and, sure that it 
was not himself that the animal smelled — as the wind 
was blowing from the deer toward him — he crouched 
down to await developments. He had not long to 
remain in this position. In a few moments he heard 
the crack of a rifle and saw the noble buck leap high 
into the air. He fell prone upon his side, and, as he 
lay quivering in the grass, three Indians came up and 
began to skin him. They were laughing and talking 
in loud tones. 

" Ah ha," said the scout to himself, " they are skin- 
ning my game for me. Let them go on." 

He crouched low in the brush, and when they had 
about completed this operation he rose, took careful 
aim, and killed the one he judged to be the leader of 
the party. Believing that he was too well concealed 
to be detected, he crouched behind the brush, and, 
turning his back, reloaded his rifle in that position. 
The redskins, meanwhile, climbed into some trees, but 
one of them exposed himself to the keen view of the 
scout. Harrod took careful aim, and, at the dis- 
charge of his flint-lock, the savage tumbled to the 



JAMES HARROD 15 

ground. The third Indian now saw where he was 
concealed, and, leaping to the ground, made at him 
with rifle raised. Harrod put his cap upon a stick 
and poked it above the brush. The redskin fired, 
thinking that he was aiming at the trapper, and, as his 
bullet whistled by the head of the man of the frontier, 
the scout knew that the advantage was now on his side. 
Drawing his tomahawk, he leaped from his hiding 
place, and, in a few bounds, had swung his weapon 
above the head of the now terrified brave. In a second 
it was all over with the red man. 

The scout sat down and laughed loudly, for he had 
won a glorious victory. Then he rose, gathered up 
the arms of his enemies, loaded himself with deer 
meat, and made his way back to his cabin. He was 
well satisfied with the day's work. 

This was but one of many adventures. He con- 
tinued upon his solitary hunts, and, while searching for 
game, often was surrounded by roving Shawnees, so 
that his life was in constant danger. 

A month after the first affair he was chasing some 
deer on Cedar Run — a tributary of a stream now 
named Harrod's Creek, in honor of this intrepid pio- 
neer. He had shot a fat buck and was bending over 
him in order to get the choicest bit of venison, when 
a bullet whizzed suddenly by his ear. A loud and 
triumphant yell sounded in the forest at the same in- 
stant, and, looking up, he saw that he was confronted 
by a dozen red men. His only safety was in flight. 

Scout Harrod was no mean runner. Inured to 
hardship, and with muscles of steel, he bounded away 



16 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

like one of the very deer which he had just dispatched. 
The Indians were in hot pursuit. As they came on, 
their leader cried, at the top of his voice : 

" Come on ! Here is the lone panther — Come on ! 
Come on ! " 

So hotly did they push the running trapper that 
Harrod did not keep a proper lookout for what was 
in front of him. To his dismay, he found that he 
almost ran into a party of savages coming up to join 
the others. What was he to do ? In a moment he had 
made up his mind. 

Dashing right up to the oncoming braves he began 
to yell at the top of his lungs : " Come on, boys — here 
they are — Come on ! Come ! " He then followed 
this with an exultant whoop. 

The Shawnees could not see their friends, — the 
pursuers. They were therefore of the opinion that 
this was a war party of whites, in considerable num- 
bers, which is just what Harrod wished them to be- 
lieve. Those in front became panic stricken, and 
turned without firing a shot. Those in the rear fol- 
lowed, while Harrod — racing after them — struck 
two to the earth with his tomahawk. One was a cele- 
brated Shawnee chief, called Turkey Head, who was 
noted for his cruelty to the unlucky settlers who fell 
into his hands. 

The scout kept on, plunged into a ravine, and seated 
himself in some thick brush. Peeping through the 
leaves, he saw his pursuers go on in full cry. Their 
wild yelping finally died out in the distance, and, turn- 
ing around, the famous woodsman retraced his steps 



JAMES HARROD 17 

towards the settlement. He arrived there in due time, 
much overjoyed to have thus safely escaped from his 
vindictive enemies. 

This was certainly a narrow escape, but another 
adventure — some days later — was about as thrilling 
as the last. 

While at Harrodsburg he learned that a marauding 
expedition was about to start for the settlements, led 
by a famous warrior called Turtle Heart. He must 
stop it if he could, but, should he know their plans it 
would be far easier to head off the wild band, which 
would fall upon the log houses of the pioneers like a 
cloud of fire. 

The scout set off alone in order to visit the Indian 
town, and, reaching it about noon, secreted himself 
upon an eminence from which he could watch the 
gathering savages. Here he lay until nightfall, then 
— carefully hiding his gun — stole noiselessly into the 
town and approached the council house. Worming 
his way up to it, he crouched near a hole — looked 
through — and saw many of the chiefs in close con- 
sultation. 

" We will attack in two days," said one big, fierce- 
looking fellow. " The palefaces shall not possess the 
land given to us by the Great Father." 

" Ugh ! Ugh ! " uttered several. " The palefaces 
must go home to the land of the rising sun! " 

This was enough for the scout, and, rising, he began 
to beat a retreat. Suddenly he started back, for be- 
fore him stood a giant redskin who seized him by the 
shoulder. Harrod saw that he was about to give a 



18 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

whoop of alarm. There was not a moment to be lost. 
Catching the warrior fiercely by the throat, the pio- 
neer stunned him by a terrific blow of the fist. So 
strong was he that he broke the neck of the brave, 
and, without waiting an instant, bounded forth into 
the darkness. A single cry, or even the sound of a 
struggle, would have brought a hundred infuriated 
savages to the scene. His nerve and gigantic strength 
had saved him from an awful death. 

Not many weeks after this affair he married a 
young and beautiful girl, was given a Colonel's com- 
mission for his many services upon the frontier, and 
retired to the peace and seclusion of a small log hut 
near the town which he had founded. But his charm- 
ing wife could not prevent his long and solitary excur- 
sions into the wilderness, where were deer, bear, wild 
turkeys, and lurking redskins. One day he went upon 
one of these hazardous trips, and from it he never 
returned. Parties of friendly pioneers scoured the 
woods in every direction, but he had " gone on and 
had left no sign," No trace of this gallant scout was 
ever found — no word of him ever came from woods- 
man or savage. Whether he met his end in manly 
combat, or whether he was tortured at the stake, no 
tongue could tell. His fate is wrapped in impenetra- 
ble mystery, and the silence of the forest broods over 
the spirit of James Harrod; frontiersman, pioneer, 
and hardy woodland adventurer. 




/ 



BATTLE OF FALLEN TIMBERS. 



ROBERT McLELLAN: 
PLUCKIEST OF THE EARLY PIONEERS 

WHEN " Mad Anthony " Wayne was furiously 
battling with Little Turtle at Fallen Tim- 
bers, a daring adventurer was with him who 
was subsequently to play a most important part in the 
exploration of the then unconquered and unexplored 
West. Hardy, utterly fearless, and possessed of won- 
derful agility, — such was Robert McLellan, one of 
the most noted scouts that ever operated upon the 
border, and a rifleman whose aim was both quick 
and marvellously true. 

In the summer of 1794 the celebrated " Mad An- 
thony " was pushing his way into the Indian country 
and was most desirous of securing a red prisoner, 
so that he could learn the force and strength of his 
savage opponents. Calling McLellan to him, he said : 

" Bob, I wish you to take two trusty companions 
— Miller and Wells will do — and leave to-night for 
the Shawnee country. Secure a prisoner, as soon as 
possible, and return to camp with the fellow alive, 
for I am extremely anxious to get information in 
regard to the whereabouts of the large force of red- 
skins which I know to be in my front." 

McLellan was delighted. 

" All right, Captain," he replied with enthusiasm. 

19 



20 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" You leave the matter to me and I will guarantee 
that I and my friends will return with the desired 
captive. Only give us time and we will deliver the 
man of the woods, right side up and with care." 

The General laughed. 

" Very good," said he. " Go in, now, and win 
out." 

Next morning McLellan and his two companions 
started forth with confidence and were soon far in 
the hostile country, where many prints of moccasined 
feet warned them that the savages were in the vicinity. 
One day they followed a fresh trail, and, upon peering 
around a projecting clump of bushes, saw three sav- 
ages sitting upon a log near a great fire, at which they 
were cooking some venison. They crawled softly 
towards them, and decided, in a whispered consulta- 
tion, that Wells should shoot the redskin upon the left ; 
Miller, the one upon the right; and that McLellan, 
leaving his rifle against a tree, should run the other 
fellow down and capture him. 

At the given signal the rifles spoke in unison, and 
the two redskins who had been marked, fell prostrate 
to the earth; for both of the pioneers could hit the 
eye of a squirrel at fifty yards. The one in the cen- 
tre leaped swiftly to his feet, and, darting through 
the thicket, was soon bounding away to safety. But 
McLellan was after him in a jiffy, and the redskin 
realized that he was running away from one of the 
speediest frontiersmen in all Ohio. On, on, they 
rushed, but, seeing that he was being rapidly over- 
taken, the savage turned in his course, headed for the 



ROBERT McLELLAN 21 

stream, and, with one furtive glance at the oncoming' 
man in buckskin, leaped from the high bank into the 
eddying current. 

Raising his tomahawk in his right hand, the trap- 
per made the venturesome leap with quite as much 
readiness as his opponent, and landed with a resound- 
ing splash. The water was very shallow in this spot. 
To his disgust, he found himself stuck up to the waist 
in the heavy mud. The redskin, too, was mired, but, 
brandishing a long knife aloft, now endeavored to 
strike it into McLellan's body. 

He was dealing with a crafty antagonist who had 
parried many a knife-thrust before, and, quick as a 
flash, the pioneer grabbed the right arm of the Shaw- 
nee. In an instant his tomahawk was raised as if 
to brain the red man, who cried, " Ugh ! Ugh ! Pale- 
face, you too strong. I surrender." 

In a moment more the other two pioneers had 
reached the bank, and, leaning over the edge, pulled 
both savage and frontiersman out of the mud. Each 
was vigorously washed. To the surprise of all, the 
redskin was discovered to be a white man ; the brother 
of Trapper Miller, himself, who had been captured by 
the savages when young, and had preferred to remain 
with them, although his kinsman had early left and 
had returned to his own people. " Ugh ! Ugh ! " he 
muttered. " I hate all of you." 

In spite of his protestations he was taken to the 
headquarters of "Mad Anthony;" was confined to 
the guard-house; and was questioned very closely in 
regard to the numbers of his Shawnee allies. He was 



22 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

extremely moody and resisted all attempts at con- 
ciliation, even from his brother, but at last some mem- 
ory of his former relatives seemed to return ; he began 
to grow more amiable; and, joining the company 
captained by a noted Ranger, served in the ranks of 
the whites against the people of his adoption. 

So much for the ability to run, which was exhibited 
by this celebrated woodsman. Marvellous feats of 
strength and agility are also told of McLellan. 
Amongst other stories, it is related that one day, in 
Lexington, Kentucky, a yoke of oxen blocked the nar- 
row street down which he was going, so that it was 
impossible to pass on either side. Instead of turning 
out of the way, or waiting for the team to move on, 
the famous man of the frontier made a few rapid 
bounds, and — with a mighty spring — cleared both 
of the oxen with the greatest possible ease. 

Another yarn is also narrated concerning his won- 
derful ability to jump, for it is said that he was 
excelled only by one William Kennan, a Kentuckian, 
and noted scout of the border. It is currently re- 
ported, and a historian of the period quotes two unim- 
peachable witnesses to back his statement, that at a 
trial of strength and agility with several other scouts, 
McLellan was asked if he could leap over a covered 
wagon. 

" I 'feel like a colt," he is said to have replied, " and, 
if you will but watch me, I am sure that I can clear 
this obstacle. Now, boys, look at me ! " 

With a run, a short step, and a tremendous spring, 
the trapper shot into the air, and — to the astonish- 



ROBERT McLELLAN 23 

ment of all — lighted softly upon the ground, on the 
other side of the wagon. He had leaped over an ob- 
stacle at least eight and a half feet high, is reported 
by an old chronicler of these early days, but this is 
hardly possible in view of the fact that the world's 
record for the high jump is but six feet nine inches. 
At any rate, he had made an extraordinary perform- 
ance. 

In the year 1806, the famous adventurer Meri- 
wether Clark met Robert McLellan ascending the 
swift and muddy waters of the Missouri in a canoe. 
Clark was returning from his long and dangerous 
expedition up the Mississippi and to the Pacific coast, 
which he had taken with Lewis ("the undaunted 
one"). Accompanying the valiant McLellan were 
numerous companions; all of the same hardy stamp 
as their leader, and all bent upon trading with the 
redskins. 

" Where are you bound? " asked Clark. 

" To fix up a trading post," answered McLellan, 
" where I can meet the red varmints on equal terms, 
trade with 'em, and get rich." 

Clark smiled dubiously. 

" You'll have a hard time," he answered, " for the 
French and Spanish are very jealous of you English. 
They operate mainly from St. Louis, and are endeav- 
oring to monopolize the entire trade of this western 
country." 

" Well," answered McLellan, with some show of 
anger, " I intend to hold this place against all the 
frog and garlic eaters in creation. Let them try to 



24 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

force out Robert McLellan, an' there'll be as tough 
a fight as any man ever looked for." 

From his former acquaintance with this trapper, 
Clark fully believed that any attempt on the part of 
the rival traders to drive him from the ground would 
certainly result in a sharp and bloody battle. 

" These French and Spanish traders," continued 
McLellan, " are like a dog who has had far too much 
to eat, and who is determined not to allow any of his 
fellows to share in the viands which he has before 
him. They want it all." 

Clark could not help laughing. 

" Look out for these Indians around here," said he. 
" They are treacherous devils and will betray you 
when you least expect it." 

" ril be on my guard," McLellan replied. 

The explorer now gave him valuable information 
in connection with the various tribes of Indians who 
occupied the ground adjacent to the banks of the 
river. He again warned him of their treacherous 
character, but felt more at ease when he learned that 
his old-time friend had recently been an Indian trader 
for some time upon the frontier. Parting company 
at this point, the two hardy pioneers were destined 
never to see each other again, for Clark turned 
towards the peaceful East, while McLellan faced 
towards the savage frontier, where lay danger, toil, 
and thrilling adventures. 

Pushing up the turbid waters of the Missouri, the 
hardy scout soon saw that his progress was not going 
to be any too easy. Suddenly hundreds of red men 



ROBERT McLELLAN 25 

crowded the steep bluffs, which jutted high above the 
sides of the narrow stream, and brandished their 
spears and tomahawks in the faces of the whites. 
There were but forty trappers, so it could be plainly- 
seen that it was wisest to submit to the demands 
of the hostiles. A solitary chieftain — splendidly 
mounted — now dashed up to the bank and held up 
his hand in token of a parley. 

" Ugh ! Ugh ! Palefaces," said he, " you cannot 
come further into our country, for you will drive off 
all the game and we desire it for ourselves. But, if 
you want to build big house for trading you can do 
so down the stream." 

" I reckon they've got us, boys," said McLellan. 
" We'll retreat and put up our tent lower down. I'll 
guarantee that this hold-up didn't originate with the 
redskins. There's Spanish blood behind this affair, 
or else my name's not Robert McLellan." 

The savages supposed that the whites .were per- 
fectly contented with this enforced arrangement, and 
drew off, leaving a guard to watch the traders. But 
McLellan was a past master in outwitting Indians 
and had fooled too many in former years. No sooner 
had the army of savages moved well towards their 
villages than he hastily loaded up his boat, and, by 
pulling it very rapidly, passed the cliffs, where the red 
men had held him up before. He soon reached a spot 
suitable for his establishment, there built several log 
huts, and prepared to spend a considerable time in 
peaceful trading. He also swore to have revenge 
upon a Spaniard, called Manuel Lisa, as soon as he 



26 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

could catch him. For he learned that this opposition 
trader had been the cause of his detention. 

McLellan lived here for several years in partner- 
ship with an adventurous borderer named Crooks, 
who was an expert in trading with the savages. They 
prospered, but soon the Sioux grew very troublesome. 
One day, when the trappers were off on a hunt, the 
red men surrounded the post, overpowered the trap- 
pers left behind, and began to carry off all of the 
valuable stores. McLellan returned before the work 
of spoliation was quite completed and burst in among 
the savages, exhibiting terrific anger. 

" You curs ! " he shouted, '* bring back everything 
that you have taken away, or I'll blow you all to 
pieces with my cannon! " 

The Sioux well knew the ungovernable temper and 
desperate character of the infuriated trapper. 

" He heap angry! " said they. " We do as he say." 

They returned much that had been taken away, but 
much that had been carried to the Indian village never 
came back, and the valorous trader had to pocket a 
loss of about three thousand dollars. Heaping curses 
upon the heads of the savages, the Spaniards, the 
Frenchmen, and all the other " unmitigated rascals," 
as he called them, the outraged trader now fitted up 
his boats and started down the Missouri River to 
engage in business at a place where his competitors 
would be more honest and honorable. 

Crooks had parted company with McLellan some 
time before this outrage. 

" I can do better for myself down stream," he had 



EGBERT McLELLAN 27 

said. " The Indians here are too troublesome, for 
they are under the influence of the rascally Spaniard, 
Manuel Lisa." 

What was the surprise of the disappointed fron- 
tiersman, when floating down the Missouri on his 
way to St. Louis, to find his former partner at the 
mouth of the Nodaway River. 

" I'm delighted to see you, Crooks," he cried, and, 
rounding to, he ran his canoe upon the bank. While 
their men mingled together the partners had a long 
conversation, and from Crooks it was learned that 
the organization, with which he was now connected, 
was under the command of a Mr. Hunt — one of John 
Jacob Astor's partners in the American Fur Company. 

" We are bound for the mouth of the Columbia 
River," said Crooks, " where we are to meet another 
part of the expedition which has gone by sea. We 
will be camped here until spring, so will you not join 
us? I am sure that you will have better luck in tra- 
ding and trapping in this new field." 

McLellan could not withstand the temptation. 

"By George," cried he. "I'll be with you. I'll 
begin a new life and see if I cannot have better suc- 
cess than here upon the Missouri." 

Throwing away all of his worldly possessions, ex- 
cept his trusty rifle, the unfortunate trader joined the 
expedition. 

" I am determined to begin the world anew," he 
wrote to his brother. " And I trust that there will be 
no Spanish traders in the country to which we are 
going." 



28 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

His hopes were in vain, for they heard that Manuel 
Lisa was on the way to impede their progress and 
would use every effort to pass them by and prevent 
them from gaining any trade benefits with the Indians 
above. Sure enough, an emissary soon appeared from 
the crafty Spaniard, holding a message in his hand. 

" If you wait for my party," it ran, " we can enter 
this territory together and share the trade. This will 
be better for all concerned." 

" Don't give in to him," cried McLellan, when he 
heard this message. " The lying Spaniard can't tell 
the truth if he tries to, and cannot be honest if he 
wishes. He'll trick you after he has made you believe 
that he is your friend." 

" I believe that you're right," Hunt answered. 
" I'll send him no definite reply." 

So he returned a missive which did not commit him 
to any particular course of procedure. 

In a few days — it was the thirty-first of May — 
immense bodies of savages gathered on the bluffs of 
the river, armed and painted for war. They screeched 
their defiance and yelled like demons, so it was easy 
to see that the tricky Manuel had been influencing 
them. Every trapper seized his arms and stood ready 
for action. 

" Load up the artillery ! " cried Captain Hunt, for 
he saw that it was dangerous both to retreat and to 
advance. " We will first fire off some blank cartridges 
and see if we cannot scare these pesky varmints into 
submission." 

In a few moments smoke and flame burst from the 



ROBERT McLELLAN 29 

mouths of the cannon and the redskins beat a precip- 
itate retreat. But soon they gathered again and made 
peace signs. 

" We would make big talk," cried one painted brave. 
" We love our white brothers." 

" Load the cannon with grape and cannister," said 
McLellan to his men. " Hunt and I will go ashore, 
and, if the redskins show any signs of treachery, 
blaze away." 

His men smiled, as the daring trapper now ap- 
proached the bank, where the Indians welcomed him 
with much show of good will, for they saw that the 
white men meant business. They smoked the pipe 
of peace together, and, finding that the trappers were 
determined to advance at any cost, the red men sud- 
denly evinced a perfect willingness to allow them to 
go on. Their hearts were warmed by the gift of 
several hundredweight of corn, and — what they 
loved still more — a quantity of tobacco. " Ugh ! 
Ugh!" grunted the chiefs. "We love our white 
brothers." 

Seeing that the red men were now peaceful, Mc- 
Lellan ordered his own followers to advance up the 
river, but he was soon surprised by seeing another 
band of Indians, who rode along the bank of the 
stream but seemed to be friendly. 

" By George ! " cried McLellan, " these fellows are 
the same ones that robbed my store, when Crooks and 
I were in partnership ! They mean trouble." 

But the children of the plains realized that the 
whites were in force, and, fearing that they might 



30 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

attempt to punish them for their former actions, 
peacefully accepted several presents which were of- 
fered them. Again the trappers forced their way up 
the swift waters, but again they were surprised by 
a group of red men, who rode up the bank, and, in 
a lordly and insolent manner, demanded presents sim- 
ilar to those which had recently been given to their 
brethren. This angered the trappers, for they appre- 
ciated the fact that the redskins wished to frighten 
them. 

" You shall not get a single thing from us," shouted 
Hunt, — a man of great firmness. " Furthermore, if 
you make any more insolent demands, I will treat you 
all as enemies and turn our cannon against you." 

This did not please the savages, as can be well 
imagined. Vowing vengeance, and shaking their fists 
at the trappers, they rode off across the prairie, while 
the whites were now divided into two forces; one 
going up one bank, and the other taking the opposite 
side. Thus they proceeded for several days, until they 
came to a spot where the stream was very narrow and 
was filled with sand bars. A vast number of red- 
skins were camped upon the western bank, and Hunt 
was fearful that they would soon attack. He and 
McLellan were in one of the boats. 

" I know that they are peaceful," said the former, 
" for their faces are painted. Row to the shore ! " 

As they approached, the savages dropped their bows 
and arrows, came to meet them joyfully, and proved 
to be a band of Arickaras who were at war with the 
Sioux, and were thus anxious to have the white trap- 



ROBERT McLELLAN 31 

pers assist in fighting their battles for them. " How ! 
How! " said they. " We glad to see our white broth- 
ers. How! How! We wish to have sticks which 
speak with the voice of thunder." 

The adventurers looked forward to rich trade with 
the red men but were much surprised and angered by 
receiving word that the boat of Lisa — the Spaniard 
— was rapidly approaching. 

" That rascally fellow will ruin our work ! " cried 
McLellan, with considerable heat. " We must let him 
know, now, that we will stand no trickery from him. 
If he tampers with these redskins and sets them 
against me, I will let my rifle do the work of venge- 
ance." 

The Indians, meanwhile, showed no disposition to 
trade, knowing that the presence of a rival trader 
would ensure them better bargains. Lisa soon arrived 
and was not long in discovering that he was an un- 
w^elcome guest. McLellan had difficulty in restrain- 
'ing himself from wreaking a just vengeance upon this 
artful " Greaser," but fearing that he might involve 
Hunt and his other friends in a quarrel, kept his own 
counsel. It was, however, not for long. 

Lisa agreed that he and Hunt would go to the 
Indian village and would trade there, but that no 
advantage should be taken of one another in the 
transactions with the wild riders of the plains. After 
a short delay they proceeded together up the river. 
But the crafty Spaniard was soon up to his old tricks 
and attempted to induce a certain French Canadian, 
in Hunt's employ, to leave his master. 



32 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" I will give you better wages and treatment," said 
he. " Come — boy — be one of my followers." 

This was overheard by McLellan and infuriated 
him. Seizing a gun, he gave the Spaniard to under- 
stand that he had old scores to settle with him, and 
that he had better get his own pistol and defend him- 
self, for he was soon to be shot down like a dog. 
"You thieving, sneaking Greaser!" he shouted. 
" Now you will go to Kingdom Come in a hurry. 
You should have been beneath the sod long 
ago." 

Fire flashed from the Spaniard's eyes and he 
reached for his pistol, but, before he could draw, the 
angered McLellan was seized by both Hunt and 
Crooks, who took his weapon away from him and 
pinned him to the ground, until he promised that he 
would not touch the Spaniard. Lisa himself was care- 
ful not to again rouse the ire of the pioneer, and, as 
a result, did not attempt to underbid the trade offers 
to the Arickaras. Successful bartering was soon ac- 
complished, and Hunt's party set about the difficult 
undertaking of crossing through the Rocky Moun- 
tains and traversing the dry table-land to the Pacific 
coast. 

You can well realize that this was a hazardous 
undertaking, for, not only did the trappers have a 
hazy and undefined conception of the route to follow, 
but there was little water in certain parts of this 
country, and a great scarcity of game in others. 
There were sixty-two in the adventurous band, with 
eighty-two pack-horses to carry luggage, guns, and 



ROBERT McLELLAN 33 

camp equipment. All were well armed and were full 
of determination to succeed. 

As the adventurous little body of trappers filed 
silently towards the West — a few days later — the 
Indians collected in order to bid them good-by. 
Many an old chief was seen to shake his head, as they 
wended their way towards the beetling mountains, 
and the treacherous, though adventurous, Lisa was 
heard to exclaim : " These men are fools ! They are 
all dead! All dead! None will ever return!" But 
these pessimistic remarks did not seem to worry the 
followers of Hunt and McLellan. With cheerful 
looks and smiling faces they kept onward towards 
their goal. 

Soon they were in the glorious Big Horn range 
and were in the vicinity of the tepees of many In- 
dians, who were not slow in discovering their ap- 
proach. Contrary to every expectation, the red men 
greeted them most hospitably, gave them dried buf- 
falo meat, and told them how to find a way through 
the rugged hills before them. These were the Chey- 
ennes — a war-like tribe ■ — which had its name from 
the Cheyenne River. They were soon to be driven 
from their hunting-grounds by the steady, westward 
emigration of the whites, but were now rich in both 
ponies and buffalo robes, and were much feared by 
the neighboring denizens of the plains : the Crows and 
Ogalala Sioux. 

The pioneers kept on, traded with the redskins 
whom they met, and found increased dangers and 
difficulties in their path. It was summer, and thou- 



34 FAMOUS FRONTIEESMEN 

sands of gnats and mosquitoes attacked both men and 
horses, rendering Hfe miserable and making it most 
disagreeable to proceed. I, myself, travelled through 
this country in the summer of 1899, and have never 
seen so many pests as here. Swarms of green-headed 
horse-flies attacked our pack animals, so that they 
would sometimes be bloody from their bites. Often 
the horses would roll upon the ground in order to get 
rid of the flies, and thus would dislodge the packs, 
which had taken some time to adjust. Their sting 
was most poisonous. Mosquitoes were here by the 
millions, and we had great difficulty — even then — 
of getting through the fallen timber, which some- 
times extended for many miles. These pioneers 
picked their way through the forests, forded the 
rushing streams, ascended and descended the deep 
canyons, and finally reached the headwaters of the 
Mad River, or Snake River, as it is called below its 
junction with Henry's Fork. 

An adventurous trader named Henry had here es- 
tablished a trading-post, the year before, but becom- 
ing disgusted with the Indians, who refused to barter 
with him, had abandoned it. Hunt, McLellan, and 
their little party, reached this spot on the eighth day 
of October, where they stopped to recruit their 
strength. Then they engaged Indians to look out for 
their horses, which they concluded to leave behind 
them, and built a number of canoes with which to 
commit themselves to the current of the river. They 
embarked, and, for a hundred miles found their prog- 
ress easy, but all at once they saw to their dismay that 



ROBERT McLELLAN 35 

below them were dangerous falls and treacherous 
rapids. Their journey was blocked. 

It was impossible to return to Henry's Fork, where 
were their horses, and to go on meant the destruction 
of all their supplies. What was there to do? To the 
North was the Columbia River, but an unbroken wil- 
derness lay between. They must cross it, trust to luck 
that game would come their way, and that their rifles 
would not miss it when found. There were but a few 
days' provisions left, so it was decided to divide the 
party into four sections : the first, under Crooks, was 
to make its way up the river to Fort Henry; the 
second, under McLellan, was to continue down the 
Snake; while the third, under McKenzie, was to 
traverse the wilderness towards the Columbia. The 
fourth section was to remain for a time where it was. 
And it w^as further understood that any party which 
should come across assistance or supplies should re- 
turn to the main body under Hunt, which would hold 
the present camp until their leader became convinced 
that all had failed in their efforts to reach their desti- 
nation. Let us see how they fared. 

McLellan continued his way down the rushing 
Snake with three companions, but, finding that it was 
almost impossible to make further progress, he de- 
flected his line of march so as to follow the detach- 
ment under McKenzie. Their course was over a bare 
and arid country where there was no game and little 
water. Occasionally a jack-rabbit scampered between 
the clumps of sage brush, but no one seemed to have 
sufficient ability with the rifle in order to bring one 



36 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

down. A lean coyote would now and again be seen, 
and often the weird wailing of one of these creatures 
would make night hideous. The jerked bufifalo meat 
which they carried was soon exhausted and the ad- 
venturers began to suffer from the gnawing pains of 
hunger, but on they walked with grim and ''steadfast 
determination. Weary, footsore, and nearly ex- 
hausted, they finally came upon McKenzie and his five 
companions. These fortunately had food, which they 
gave to the gaunt trappers, who rested for a full day 
before they could go on. 

McLellan was undaunted. Trained in a hundred 
combats with the savages of the West, and hardened 
by years of exposure, he saw no cause for despond- 
ency. Some of the trappers, however, gave way to 
despair. They were among the barren drifts and ex- 
tinct craters of gigantic volcanoes, while, through the 
winding fissures of its canyoned walls, the furious tor- 
rent of the Snake River dashed, foamed, and roared 
beneath them. Like a snow-white ribbon it plunged 
onward upon its wild career, and, in the sobbing roar 
of its cataracts, some of the more weak-hearted fan- 
cied that they heard the voices of those departed, who 
called to them to follow where they had gone. 

It grew cold. A fierce snow-storm came upon them. 
As the food supply was gone, a dozen beaver skins 
were cut into strips and roasted, but this provender 
only sustained life for a few days. At length the trap- 
pers became exhausted, and, crouching under the pro- 
tecting ledge of a wall of rock, shivered before their 
fire, and gloomily looked forth upon the bHnding 



ROBERT McLELLAN 37 

snow. All was sadness and despondency. Some con- 
templated death, which they thought to be inevitable, 
and even the lion-hearted McLellan lost that un- 
daunted courage which had never before deserted 
him. Could it be that they were to die before they 
saw the roaring waters of the Columbia ? Could it be 
that they were to perish before they reached the 
trader's post upon the green-gray stretch of the Pa- 
cific Ocean? 

Peering into the gloom from his rocky shelter, the 
keen eyes of McLellan suddenly perceived a buffalo, 
which, driven to the rocky wall by the desire to get 
away from the blinding snow, was crouching under 
the lee of a high bluff. What could be more fortu- 
nate? Taking note of the direction of the wind, the 
trapper left his hiding-place and crawled against it, 
until he came within thirty yards of the beast. Care- 
fully he wormed his way behind a jutting ledge of 
rock and sand, then — taking a good sight — touched 
the trigger of his rifle, and the great lumbering brute 
fell dead. With a wild and hilarious cheer the old 
scout dashed to where he lay and cut joyful capers 
around him in the snow. "Hurray! Hurray!" he 
cried. " Now we will have enough food to last us 
for many days. Hurray! Hurray! " 

Seizing upon the carcass of the beast, the old scout 
rolled him down the hill towards the cavern in which 
his own companions were shivering. With a wild yell 
he announced his triumph and this was answered by 
a hoarse cry from the half- famished trappers, who 
rushed upon the beast, and, but for the warning of 



38 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

the old frontiersman, would have gorged themselves 
upon the raw flesh, so great was their hunger. 

" Hold back, my friends," cried he. " Wait but a 
moment and I will give you some cooked food. Re- 
strain yourselves, for a few seconds, and I will see that 
you get enough to save your lives. Eat the raw flesh 
and you will all perish." 

It was difificult to hold back the starving trappers, 
but soon a fire was lighted, the choicest parts of the 
buffalo were broiled upon a ramrod, and the gaunt 
spectres were allowed a feast. This saved their lives. 
With renewed strength they again made their way 
towards the Columbia, and, meeting with an occa- 
sional buffalo which they had the good fortune to kill, 
at length reached the swirling river, where a band of 
roving red men supplied them with a number of 
canoes. They also secured sufficient jerked meat to 
last them until they should reach the coast, where the 
trading-post of Astoria had already been established. 
To that lucky shot of McLellan's they owed their 
hves. 

Hunt, meanwhile, had decided that the three parties 
had successfully made their way to the coast, so he 
had started for the Columbia. Crooks had reached 
Fort Henry, where he spent his time in trapping and 
in trading with the redskins. As for the trappers who 
had left for Astoria by sea, they had met with an ad- 
verse fate, for the savages had induced them to enter 
the mouth of a small river, when they reached the 
neighborhood of the trading-post, and here had sur- 
rounded and massacred all of the voyageurs, after the 



ROBERT McLELLAN 39 

vessel had been run aground. It took Hunt over a 
month to arrive at the coast. Crooks eventually fol- 
lowed. He met the other trappers after a separation 
of five months' duration. 

After frightful privations and suffering the four 
parties were now safe at Astoria ; a trading-post which 
was to create a fortune for its founder, John Jacob 
Astor, a shrewd merchant of New York, who was a 
dealer in furs and peltries of wild animals. But there 
was still travelling to be done, for Hunt determined 
soon after his arrival to send a party overland, in 
order to notify Astor of the loss of the detachment 
which had come by sea. 

Strange to relate, the lion-hearted McLellan an- 
nounced that he intended to go back with this party 
to St. Louis. " For," said he, " I have not been given 
a sufificient share of the profits of this company. I 
am entitled to more." His friends begged him to re- 
main and not again to plunge into the wilderness, 
where were dangers just as great as those from which 
he had escaped. But he was obstinate in his purpose, 
" To St. Louis I shall go," said he, " and not all the 
redskins on the earth will stop me. I have been 
treated most unfairly." Thus, on the twenty-second 
day of March, 1812, he turned his back upon Astoria, 
and set out upon the hazardous trip towards the East. 
The detachment was under the command of John 
Reed, clerk of the Fur Company, a man of undoubted 
courage and experience in frontier warfare. 

There were seventeen in this particular expedition, 
all men of well tried courage and resource in wilder- 



40 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

ness adventure. Ascending the Columbia in canoes, 
they reached the falls and were preparing to make the 
portage when a band of redskins surrounded them and 
began to shoot arrows at their ranks. The trappers 
crouched behind the protection of trees and boulders, 
and made a stand, sending many a humming bullet 
into the ranks of the savages, who suddenly ceased 
hostilities, and, holding up their hands in sign of peace, 
came towards the white men. Mingling with the 
travellers, the Indians offered to carry their luggage 
around the rapids. 

" The redskins only want to steal all that we've 
got," whispered McLellan to his men. " But we can 
let them carry the canoes around the falls. Then we 
can get the baggage over during the night, and, when 
morning dawns, we'll be off before the varmints know 
what we're up to." 

The redskins seemed to be well satisfied. They 
carried the canoes upon their broad shoulders, and, as 
night fell, retired to their village across the river, 
leaving a few upon the same side as the whites. Mc- 
Lellan waited until the moon rose; then waking the 
others, he told them to get their baggage around the 
falls as soon as they could. The trappers worked in- 
dustriously, and just as day was breaking, they de- 
posited the last sack of provisions at the head of the 
rapids. This had been done without waking the red- 
skins, who were upon their side of the river. 

But now was an uproar, for the savages across the 
stream learned what was going on, and, in a few 
moments, came swarming to the attack. A hundred 



ROBERT McLELLAN 41 

of them rushed upon the nervy band of trappers, cry- 
ing out, " You no go on. You stay here. You no 
go away." 

Brandishing aloft an immense club, a red warrior 
rushed upon Reed and felled him to the ground. An- 
other ran towards McLellan, who, with rifle in hand, 
stood watching the affray. As he approached, the 
trapper was ready, and, although the redskin at- 
tempted to throw a buffalo robe over his head in 
order to blind his vision as he made a thrust at him 
with his knife, the old scout was too wary a bird to 
be caught napping. Stepping quickly aside, he shot 
the savage dead. As the redskin rolled over, a noise 
sounded from behind, and, wheeling around, he was 
just in time to hit another Indian who was about to 
shoot him with a rifle. The trappers now rallied to 
the defense of their leader. The savage who had at- 
tacked Reed was dispatched just as he was about to 
brain the trapper with his tomahawk. The rifles of 
the men from Astoria spoke in unison, and terrified 
by the desperate courage of the rangers, the savages 
dropped back. McLellan urged his followers to the 
charge, and, with a wild yell, they rushed upon the 
redskins, who took to their heels, leaving many of 
their number prostrate upon the ground. 

The unfortunate Reed had lost his dispatches to 
Astor, for he carried them in a bright, new, tin box 
which immediately attracted the attention of the In- 
dians. They fancied that it must be of great value, 
because of the care which the leader took of it. But 
this put an end to the expedition. Reluctantly and 



42 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

sadly the trappers returned to the trading-post, where 
the wounded recovered from their injuries received 
in the Httle skirmish with the red men. 

Hunt was greatly disappointed. " Boys ! " said he, 
" I must absolutely get my dispatches through to 
Saint Louis, — Indians or no Indians. Astor must 
know of the fate of his other division. I will start 
a second expedition in June and Robert Stuart will 
be its commander. He will take only four good men 
with him." 

McLellan announced that he would be a member of 
the party, and Crooks also declared that he would leave 
Astoria, because he had become dissatisfied with the 
method in which Hunt had treated him. They soon 
launched their canoes in the Columbia ; began to pad- 
dle up the stream, and, before long, reached the mouth 
of the Walla- Walla, where they hid their frail craft, 
and started across country to the Snake River. 
Horses had been purchased from the red men, and 
with these they made good time, although again their 
food supply became exhausted so that they were forced 
to scrape the fur from beaver and bufTalo skins and 
eat the hide in order to keep from starving. Fortu- 
nately game was now met with and this provender 
saved their lives. 

At the place where they had last camped on Snake 
River they had buried a quantity of dried meat and 
other food, but when they arrived there they dis- 
covered that the redskins had found out its where- 
abouts, had dug it up, and had carried it away. It 
was growing cold, but they pressed forward with re- 



ROBERT McLELLAN 43 

newed courage, and entered a country which was free 
from game, so that again they were threatened with 
the dangers of starvation. Besides this, it was the 
land of the Crow Indians, who were terrific thieves 
and who soon discovered the presence of the Httle 
band of trappers. The sharp eyes of McLellan — 
well used to watching game — were not long in dis- 
covering the presence of the Indians. 

" Look out. boys," said he. " I notice some of the 
red varmints hovering near by and suspect that we 
will be attacked before long. Look to the priming of 
your rifles and have plenty of ammunition handy. Be 
on your guard ! " 

The trappers gave good heed to this warning and 
redoubled their guards around the camp at nightfall. 
It was well that they did so, for, on the very next day, 
a large band of red men rode up to their halting-place, 
all fully armed with spears and arrows. 

" Ugh ! Ugh ! " said the spokesman. " Where are 
my white brothers going? " 

McLellan answered for the trappers that they were 
upon a peaceful errand and would not molest the red 
men, if they in turn would do them no harm. As he 
spoke, the redskins looked carefully at the men of the 
frontier, and, seeing them well armed and ready for 
business, decided not to attack. But they travelled 
with them for six whole days, quietly stealing any 
little articles that they could find, and, on the evening 
of the sixth day, ran off all the horses of the trappers 
in a mad stampede. The white adventurers were in 
a desperate situation. 



44 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Stuart, the commander, now spoke vigorous words. 

" We must cache everything which we cannot carry, 
and push on," said he. " Let winter overtake us in 
this God-forsaken country and all is lost. On! On! " 

As the men were busily engaged in digging a hole 
in which to bury the supplies, one of the trappers in- 
terrupted them. 

" Two of those thieving Crows are watching us," 
said he, " and they will dig everything up just as soon 
as we disappear." 

McLellan grew furious at this information. 

" No thieving Crow will ever get anything of mine," 
said he, " unless they get my scalp first. I'll burn 
everything which we leave behind, and then let Mr. 
Redskin hustle for the white man's food." 

" You're right ! " answered all. " Burn it we will ! " 

Their stores were soon piled up into a heap and 
were consumed by the flames. 

They now headed for the Mad River, where they 
built rafts, and floated them down these turbid waters, 
for several days. Then they again struck off across 
country towards the East, crossing a wide plateau to 
the base of the Rocky Mountains. They were in the 
land of the Blackfeet Indians, who were as hostile 
towards the whites as were the Crows, and who were 
as arrant thieves; but they kept on towards the high 
land, hoping thus to elude the red men. As they pro- 
ceeded into the mountains, McLellan bitterly com- 
plained against their course and begged them to re- 
main upon the plateau. " For," said he, " I've already 
had enough mountain climbing to last me a lifetime, 



ROBERT McLELLAN 45 

and I'd rather be comfortably killed by the Indians 
than break my neck falling down a canyon. You boys 
would rather climb mountains than fight the red- 
skins." 

To these remarks Stuart and his companions paid 
no attention, but kept on their way. McLellan was 
liked by all, and one trapper offered to give him a load 
of jerked meat to carry, instead of the traps. 

" A hunter should be able to kill his own meat 
without carrying any," said the old pioneer, who was 
now thoroughly angry. " Who wants to carry a 
whole horse-load of dried beef on his back? As for 
me, I'll go no further with you. Fools ! Good-by ! " 

This burst of temper seemed to relieve his mind, 
and, starting down the mountain, he set out alone 
without once looking behind him. His companions 
kept on, and as they reached the top of the eminence, 
gazed over the plain, where a dark spot marked the 
form of the angered man of the frontier. 

" Boys," said Stuart. " There goes the last of the 
old pioneers of the Kentucky border. You will never 
see him or his' like again." 

As he said this, the eyes of many of his compan- 
ions filled with tears. 

Events were not to go smoothly with either Mc- 
Lellan or Stuart, for the former lost his way; became 
so weak from lack of food that he was unable to go 
further; and wandered aimlessly about. The latter 
also suffered terribly from hunger, but kept on, hop- 
ing to meet with game at every mile. His men were 
footsore and dejected, for they entered upon a barren 



46 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

region where there was no game, and where even the 
coyotes seemed to have disappeared. They became 
desperate, and determined to throw themselves upon 
the mercy of the mahcious Blackfeet, should they 
come across them. 

With this end in view, the voyageurs kept a sharp 
lookout for Indian fires, hoping to gain food and as- 
sistance from the red men. Suddenly, in the far dis- 
tance, they saw the twinkle of a little light and knew 
that some living being was near them. But it was 
late in the day. So they dispatched one of their num- 
ber to see who it was, while the rest went into camp 
for the night. The messenger did not return. 

Upon the day following, the exhausted plainsmen 
hastened in the direction of the fire which they had 
seen the evening before, and met their companion run- 
ning towards them. 

" Boys," said he, " ' Old Bob ' McLellan is lying 
by that fire in an absolutely exhausted condition. He 
is so weak that unless some stimulant is given him he 
will expire. Hurry and give him food from our 
meagre supply! " 

This hastened the feet of the trappers, and reaching 
the place where the stubborn-minded old pioneer was 
lying, they discovered that he was in a desperate 
plight. A cup of hot cofifee, however, soon revived 
him, so that he was able to struggle to his feet and 
join in their weary march. His rifie was carried by 
one of his companions. 

The little party pressed on, luckily came across a 
" solitary," or bull buffalo, which had been driven 



ROBERT McLELLAN 47 

from the herd because of old age and infirmity, and 
had the good fortune to kill it. Strengthened by this 
repast, they stumbled forward, and, by great good 
chance, came upon a band of Snake Indians, who fed 
them, gave them buckskin for moccasins, and, at their 
departure, not only presented them with a goodly 
quantity of jerked meat, but also with an old horse 
to carry it. Winter was coming on. Small flurries 
of snow announced the advent of the season, but they 
were now nearing the river Platte, where was an 
abundance of game. The old scout had recovered 
from his exhaustion and was once more the leader of 
these heroic plainsmen, who had twice been upon the 
verge of starvation. Their emaciated forms had 
filled out ; their faces were sunburned and glowed 
with health ; while their spirits and their strength was 
as of yore. 

It was well into November when the party reached 
the river Platte, where were quantities of antelope 
and buflfalo upon the grassy plains which rolled from 
either bank. They had a big hunt and collected suffi- 
cient buffalo meat to last through the winter. Then 
they built a hut of logs and plastered it with mud, 
determined to remain here until the warmth of spring 
made it possible for them to move further upon their 
long journey to the settlements. The days passed 
pleasantly, but one morning they were awakened by 
the wild screeching of a band of savages, and rushing 
to the doorway of their cabin, found that they were 
surrounded by fully a hundred painted braves. 

"Well," said McLellan, "I — for one — am all 



48 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

ready for a brush with the redskins, whom I hate as 
much as I do old Lisa : the dastardly Spanish trick- 
ster. So, my fine fellows, look to your rifles and we'll 
have a little picnic." 

" Not so fast," Stuart interrupted. " I believe that 
these fellows are peaceably disposed towards us." 
And — so saying — he stepped forth from the door, 
rifle in one hand, the other extended towards the In- 
dians. Several of them came forward, shook his hand 
with heartiness, and intimated that they wished to 
have peace and not warfare. One of the chiefs could 
speak good English. 

'' We are on the war-path," said he. " We are 
Cheyennes and our enemies are the Crows, who have 
raided one of our villages, have stolen many ponies 
and much dried meat. They shall be punished." 

This was cheerful news. 

" Well," murmured Stuart, " here we are between 
two fires. On one side are the Cheyennes, on the 
other are the Crows. As they are both upon the war- 
path, we are in continual danger from each of them. 
If a war party is defeated, it will doubtless wreak 
vengeance upon us when returning from the fray. 
The only thing for us to do is to take our chances and 
move towards the East." 

The situation was presented to the rest of the trap- 
pers, all of whom were of the opinion that they should 
decamp. Winter was upon them and snow was deep 
upon the ground, but, if they would save their lives, 
they must leave at once. The raw-boned old horse 
was loaded up, their packs were slung on their own 



ROBERT McLELLAN 49 

shoulders, and, upon the thirteenth day of December, 
the band of adventurers set off down the Platte. 
Snow-storms and bitter winds assailed them, but on 
they struggled until well beyond the range of the war- 
like savages. Here they built another hut, passed the 
winter in peace, and in March, 1813, started down the 
river in canoes which they had made from hollowed 
stumps of trees. After an uneventful trip, they finally 
reached the Missouri and were soon on their way to 
the frontier trading-post of St. Louis. Astor then 
learned what had happened to the adventurous souls 
who had attempted to reach his trading-post by sea. 

The hazardous trip was over at last. " Old Bob " 
McLellan and his companions had crossed the wildest 
portion of an unexplored continent; had endured 
terrific hardship and exposure ; but had brought home 
an accurate description of the virgin West to the 
hearing of many adventurous souls, who — thronging 
upon the border — were anxious and eager to press 
into the unknown prairie and mountain land. Two or 
three times the trappers had just escaped death by 
starvation. Twice they had barely missed a massacre 
by the redskins. Yet their courage and fortitude had 
carried them through every peril, and at last they 
were among their own kind, where appreciation of 
their nerve and valor was freely shown. 

What of " Old Bob " McLellan, as he was affec- 
tionately called ? Alas ! The sinewy plainsman had 
been much broken by the hardships of this arduous 
journey to Astoria. Exposure and starvation had 
done its work upon the frame of the hardy man of 



50 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

the frontier, and now he was unable to again venture 
into the unknown. Purchasing a stock of goods suit- 
able for a trader, he opened a country store at Cape 
Girardeau, near St. Louis, but the angel of death even 
then hovered over the soul of the stalwart man of the 
plains. In a few months he quietly passed into the 
great beyond. 

Thus peacefully ended the career of one of the last 
of the valorous scouts and pioneers who had forced 
back the savage hordes from the Alleghanies to the 
Mississippi, and who, even as old age advanced, had 
plunged into an unexplored and unpeopled country, 
to risk both life and limb among savage men and 
beasts. Red ran the blood in the veins of this vigor- 
ous Kentuckian, and he is to be remembered as a 
good type of the venturesome pioneers who explored 
and opened to white civilization the vast and unknown 
regions of western America. The hazardous journey 
to Astoria quite equalled in danger that eventful pil- 
grimage of Lewis and Clark, the first white adven- 
turers to cross the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific. 
Hats off to " Old Bob " McLellan. 



COLONEL BENJAMIN LOGAN: 

THE INTREPID FIGHTER OF THE 
KENTUCKY FRONTIER 

" T^ ^ OTHER, I know that the law allows me to 
%/ 1 have all of the property which my father 
left, but I do not want it. You can have 
your share, and to my brothers and sisters I give the 
remainder. I, myself, will move further West, into 
the wilderness." 

The youth who spoke was about twenty-one years 
of age; tall, slender, and graceful. His face was 
open, frank, and expressive. As he ceased, he waved 
his hand towards the West and left the room in 
which his parent was sitting upon an old-fashioned 
horse-hair sofa. His name was Benjamin Logan. 

Although the old English law of primogeniture pre- 
vailed in Virginia at this time, which gave the farm, 
horses, and farming utensils to young Logan (upon 
the death of his father) he refused to accept them. 
Instead of this, he nobly partitioned the estate be- 
tween his mother, his three brothers, and two sisters, 
and removed to the Holston River. Then he began 
to farm a rough piece of ground, only part of which 
had been cleared of timber. 

About this time the Indians upon the Ohio frontier 
became very troublesome, and Logan enlisted as a 

51 



52 FAMOUkS frontiersmen 

private in the army of Lord Dunmore, Governor of 
Virginia. Marching- into the Indian country was a 
rough experience, but the youth enjoyed it, and when 
the red men signed articles of peace at ChilHcothe, 
Ohio, the stout Virginian was among those who stood 
near the chiefs and saw them put their names to the 
agreement. Kentucky was now fairly peaceable. So 
the energetic young man moved his family to Har- 
rodsburg, where a stockade had been erected called 
Logan's Fort. 

" You must look out for the redskins," said a com- 
rade to him. " Although they have signed an agree- 
ment to let us alone, my friends report that there are 
many of them in the vicinity, and they are all daubed 
up with paint, because they are upon the war-path." 

" I will be on my guard," replied the young pio- 
neer. " We must all run to the fort if there is danger 
of attack." The test was to come sooner than he ex- 
pected. 

Upon a balmy day in May, when the women were 
milking their cows near the gate of Fort Logan, and 
a few men were standing by, in order to assist them, 
a small band of redskins appeared at the edge of a 
thicket. Crash, a volley woke the stillness, and one of 
the frontiersmen fell dead while two staggered behind 
the log breastwork, with mortal wounds. A third — 
a stout fellow called Harrison — was unable to reach 
the gate, and dragged himself along to the shelter of 
some bushes. 

Within the fort, all gazed with sorrow at the 
wounded pioneer, who, although in range of the In- 



COLONEL BENJAMLN^ LOGAN 53 

dian rifles, was so protected that the balls could not 
quite reach him. Those in the fort kept up a fusillade 
in the direction of the red men, making them get 
below cover, and thus the battle continued ; the leaden 
balls zipping and whizzing across the place, where 
Harrison lay partially concealed. The man's family, 
in the fort, seemed to be in an agony of distress at his 
terrible condition. To save him would require great 
nerve and heroism. There were but fifteen men in 
the stockade ; two were badly wounded. Should they 
sacrifice any of this small number in the endeavor to 
rescue a man, who, even should he be retaken, would 
be unable to fight in defense of the fortification? This 
question confronted the beleaguered pioneers, and it 
was a serious one. 

At this moment young Logan stepped forward and 
said: 

" Who will go with me to the rescue of this poor 
fellow?" 

It was strange to see the effect of these words upon 
the besieged frontiersmen. At first every one re- 
fused. 

" I'm not a fast runner," said one, " and know that 
they will easily catch me on the return trip, even if I 
am not shot before I reach the wounded man." 

A second — a fellow of giant build — quavered : 
" I am a weakly chap. I never was no good, nohow, 
on liftin'. Perhaps you'd better git ernother stouter 
feller than I be." 

Still a third remarked that, " he wuz plum onlucky 
with Injin bullets, an' never wuz known tew git 



54 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

amongst 'em in the open without havin' one uv 'em 
nick him." 

Ben Logan could not help smiling at this. 

"What, are you all afraid to follow me?" said 
he. 

At this, a trapper called John Martin stepped to- 
wards him, and said : 

" I will go with you, for I can only die once and 
I am as ready now to go to my Maker, as I ever will 
be. Come on! To the rescue!" 

" You are a man after my own heart," answered 
the bold pioneer, grasping him warmly by the hand. 
" We will start at once." 

Throwing open the gates to the stockade, both 
dashed towards the prostrate frontiersman. They 
had proceeded about five yards from the fort when 
Harrison made an effort to rise. As he got to his 
hands and knees, Martin turned and fled to the stock- 
ade. 

" This is fine treatment," mused Logan, but he 
kept on under a veritable shower of bullets from the 
redskins. Fortune favored him; he was not hit, and 
reaching the wounded frontiersman in safety, clasped 
him in his arms, and began to lug him back to the 
fort. The deed was a noble one. 

Bullets from the red men fairly poured around the 
struggling backwoodsman, as he staggered towards 
the stockade of logs. His hat was pierced by a ball; 
one even penetrated his hunting-shirt, but, in spite of 
this, he finally reached the doorway. Hurrah ! As 
he deposited the body of the wounded man safely upon 



COLONEL BENJAMIN LOGAN 55 

the ground a mighty cheer welled from the throats of 
all. Hurrah ! Hurrah, for Benjamin Logan ! 

Even the Hercules who had complained of being 
" a weakly fellow " threw up his hat in the air. 

"Well, by Gum! Logan," said he, "if yew ain't 
th' plum luckiest feller I ever knowed. I believe that 
yew be charmed, so ez an Injun bullet can't hit yew. 
Ez fer me? Why, I would hev been struck er dozen 
times in thet hazardous journey. Huzzah ! says L 
Here's tew yer ! " 

But all danger was not yet over by any means. The 
red men were in numbers, and besieged the fort with 
a tenacity that made matters take a decidedly ugly 
look, for the few men of the garrison were not able 
to put up a very stiff fire against the increasing bands 
of Indians. Another danger also threatened, for the 
supply of ammunition became exhausted. How was 
more to be obtained? 

Distant, about a hundred miles, was the frontier 
settlement on the Holston River, to which Logan had 
first moved when he left his farm in Virginia. Here 
was ammunition in abundance, and also supplies of 
food and clothing. Would any one have nerve enough 
to creep through and relieve the beleaguered garrison ? 
This required the greatest judgment and unbounded 
courage, for the intervening country was swarming 
with savages, all upon. the war-path. It was a region 
full of deep ravines, tangled thickets, and treacherous 
swampland. 

Again all were asked to undertake the journey, but 
there were as many excuses as before. Again Ben- 



56 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

jamin Logan stepped into the breach and offered to 
bring rehef. That night he clambered to the top of 
the stockade, dropped softly to the ground outside, 
and soon his form was lost in the shadows of the 
encircling forest. He passed through the Indian lines 
in safety, and, by daybreak, was headed for the post 
at Holston. His last words to the garrison were: 
" Hold fast ! Hold on ! I will be sure to return within 
a fortnight and you will all be saved! " 

For several days the garrison returned the fire of 
the Indians with spirit, but, as the hours fled by, a 
terrible feeling of despair came over them. Their 
water began to give out; their ammunition Avas so 
low that they had to use it sparingly, and the food 
supply was in such a condition that there was danger 
of starvation if help did not soon arrive. Logan, 
meanwhile, was toiling upon his way through by- 
paths, swamps and cane brakes, having deserted the 
beaten trail through Cumberland Gap. Fortune fa- 
vored him. He met with no prowling red men, and, 
within six days, had covered the distance to the 
frontier post. 

The intrepid pioneer now procured ammunition, 
food, and a company of backwoodsmen. With these, 
he hastened onwards towards his beleaguered com- 
panions, and, upon the tenth day after his departure, 
suddenly appeared before the stockade. There were 
not twenty rounds of ammunition left in the fortress. 
Gaunt and hollow cheeks were here. Noble women 
upheld the fainting spirits of the men, but now, with 
little hope of succor, it was with difficulty that they 



COLONEL BENJAMIN LOGAN 57 

kept up their fire upon the redskins, and put out the 
flaming brands which they kept throwing into the 
stockade. A wild and exultant cheer greeted their 
leader as he ran across the clearing to the door of the 
side wall. "At last you have come!" they shouted. 
" We had given you up for dead! " 

A few days later Colonel Bowman arrived, with a 
large body of men, at which the Indians raised the 
siege and fled. But they had not gone for good. On 
the contrary, they fairly swarmed over the borders 
of Kentucky and their marauding parties committed 
some frightful outrages. There was nothing now to 
be done but to defeat them in a battle and burn 
their villages, if the white settlers were to have 
peace. 

It was the year 1779. The Revolution was over. 
England had lost her colonies to her own sons. Now 
the Colonists were beginning the great struggle to 
free themselves from the curse of Indian invasion. 
An expedition was therefore organized to invade the 
Shawnee territory and to raze to the ground the fa- 
mous town of Chillicothe. Benjamin Logan — now 
Colonel Logan — was second in command. Bowman, 
who had come to the rescue at Logan's Fort, was to 
lead the expedition ; which was to consist of one hun- 
dred and sixty men. They advanced in the heat of 
July, and marched with such precaution that they 
reached the neig'hborhood of the Indian town without 
having been discovered by the enemy. 

A plan for assaulting the village was now decided 
upon. It was very simple, for the force was to be 



58 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

divided into two parts; one, under Logan, was to 
march to the left: the other, under Bowman, was to 
march to the right. The men were to spread out in 
single rank, and when the leading files of the two 
columns had met, then, they were to attack. It w^as 
dark when the backwoods soldiers began the advance. 
Logan's men quite encircled the town, but where was 
Bowman? All through the night the leader of the 
left flank waited for the coming of the other column, 
but not a man in buckskin appeared. Hour after hour 
passed away and the darkness gave way to dawn. Still 
Bowman was strangely missing. 

" Had you not better attack? " whispered one of his 
men. " The Shawnees will soon be awake and will 
discover our whereabouts." 

*' Let us wait another hour or two," answered the 
courageous leader. " I believe that the advance of 
Bowman's column will soon be here." 

Logan's men were secreted in ambush. Here they 
remained until an Indian dog began to bark, arousing 
his master, who came out of his tepee in order to see 
what was the matter. An imprudent trapper had ex- 
posed his head above the underbrush, and the keen 
eyes of the redskin quickly discerned an enemy. He 
raised a loud war-whoop. 

As he did this, a gun went off on Bowman's side of 
the village, and, seeing that further concealment was 
useless, Colonel Logan cried out to his men : 

" Charge into the village, my boys. You must 
drive the redskins through the town, for Colonel Bow- 
man will surely support you." 



COLONEL BENJAMIN LOGAN 59 

His buckskin-clad rangers defiled quickly into the 
village, and, advancing from cabin to cabin, soon had 
reached a large building in the centre. The Indians 
fled swiftly before them, but later, recovering from 
their surprise, endeavored to turn the right flank of 
the Kentuckians, whom they perceived to be in small 
numbers. Where was Colonel Bowman? 

The Shawnees had nov/ seized their own rifles and 
were pouring in a hot fire upon the advancing fron- 
tiersmen, who tore the heavy doors from the Indian 
cabins, formed a breastwork, and protected themselves 
from the whizzing balls. They were holding their 
own and were making progress towards the Indian 
citadel, where most of the braves had collected, when 
an order came from Colonel Bowman to retreat. His 
ranking ofificer had spoken, so there was nothing for 
Logan to do but to obey. 

As soon as the men were told that they must go to 
the rear, a tumultuous scene commenced. Dispirited 
and disheartened by the order to turn their backs upon 
the enemy, they rushed away from the tomahawks and 
balls of the savages, as best they w^ere able. The In- 
dians were astonished and jubilant over the turn which 
matters had taken and pursued the rangers with wild 
and exultant yelping. The frontiersmen scattered in 
every direction, dodging and twisting in order to 
avoid the balls which whistled around them, and ran 
from cabin to cabin, in confusion. Suddenly they 
collided with Bowman's soldiers, who, because of 
some panic of their commander, had stood stock still 
near the spot where Logan had left them the night 



60 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

before. The redskins soon surrounded them on all 
sides, and kept up a hot fire. 

What was the matter with Bowman? He sat upon 
his horse like a pillar of stone; gave no orders; and 
was in an apparently helpless mental condition. His 
men paid no attention to him, but swarmed to the 
protection of trees and stumps, took aim at the yelp- 
ing red men, and soon held them at a safe distance. 
When they seemed to be quieted, the frontiersmen re- 
sumed their march. The Indians, however, came 
back to the attack, but were beaten off. They fol- 
lowed, and made an assault every half mile, or so. 
Their tenacity was due to the fact that they expected 
reinforcements and hoped to annihilate the whites. 

" Keep together, my brave men," shouted Colonel 
Logan, at this juncture. " Do not let these redskins 
stampede you, for then you will all be massacred." 

The crisis was a terrible one. The retreat would 
become a rout, unless the soldiers were kept together. 

At this juncture Colonel Logan and a few of the 
boldest souls, dashed into the brush, on horseback, and 
cut down some of the nearest red men. As they per- 
formed this bold feat, the savages held back, and thus 
allowed the fleeing soldiers to get away. Only nine 
Kentuckians were killed, a few were wounded, and 
the rest escaped to the settlements. As for Colonel 
Logan, his gallant conduct, when under stress and fire, 
greatly increased his reputation, and at the next gath- 
ering of the Kentucky troops he was unanimously 
elected to lead them against the red men, when again 
they should need chastising. 



COLONEL BENJAMIN LOGAN 61 

The Indians remained quiescent until the summer 
of 1788. Then the frontier was again attacked by- 
marauding bands, and so destructive was their ad- 
vance that the pioneer mihtia had to be called out. 
Colonel Logan was asked to lead the troops against 
the enemy. 

" Boys, I shall be delighted to do so," said he. 
" But this time there must be perfect discipline and no 
retreating. If you break in the same way that you 
did in our attack upon the Shawnee town I will not 
answer for your scalps. Let us have order, or we will 
never succeed." 

" Lead on, Colonel," cried many. " You have the 
right idea, and none of us will go back on you." 

The advance through the wilderness was most suc- 
cessful. Eight towns were burned, twenty warriors 
were killed, and seventy-five prisoners were taken. 
The son of a chief named Moluntha was carried off 
as a prisoner, and because of his brightness and prom- 
ise was kept in Colonel Logan's family. He was 
called Logan, after his distinguished captor, and grew 
to be a majestic-looking man, six feet in height. 

As for the Colonel, he returned to his farm after 
this campaign fully satisfied with his work, and deter- 
mined to lead a quiet existence. This he was well 
able to do, for the red men had been so signally chas- 
tised that they no longer attempted to rob, burn, and 
plunder upon the border. His namesake, however, 
came to an untimely end. 

During one of the campaigns by General Harrison 
against the Maumee Indians, Logan — the redskin — 



62 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

was dispatched by his superior officer upon a scouting 
expedition with several companions. They met a 
large force of hostile Indians and were driven in to 
their own camp, where one of the white officers was 
heard to remark : 

" Logan is a treacherous scoundrel. I believe that 
he will desert to those of his own color at any mo- 
ment." 

This was heard by the red man and he was stung 
to the quick. 

" I shall prove this to be a falsehood," said he. " I 
am true to my white brothers." 

Next morning he started towards the enemy with 
some companions and had not gone far when he 
found himself in an ambuscade, formed by the famous 
chieftain called Winnemac. Logan had the same cool 
courage which distinguished his white namesake. 

" We are deserting to our enemies, the British," 
said he. " We no longer care to fight with the Amer- 
icans. We are at heart your brothers." 

Chief Winnemac grunted, but kept a watchful eye 
upon his captives as he carried them away. After the 
first day, however, he decided to return the rifles and 
other arms to the prisoners. He had counted too 
much upon the words of the savage, for Logan had 
determined upon escape. 

" We will attack our captors to-night," he whis- 
pered to his two companions, Bright Horn and Cap- 
tain Johnny. " There are seven. We will wait until 
some leave and will then gain our liberty." 

As he had expected, after the camp-fires had been 



COLONEL BENJAMIN LOGAN 63 

lighted, four of the British sympathizers left, in order 
to collect fire-wood. They had not been gone over 
five minutes before the three captives had fired upon 
those left behind, killing all three. They reloaded, 
as the others came running to the camp, fired upon 
them, and forced them to take refuge behind some 
trees. As they stood confronting each other, one of 
the most wiry and skillful crept around to the rear 
of the American red men, pointed his rifle, and shot 
Logan in the shoulder. He fell forward, badly 
wounded. 

Lifting him to the back of a pony, his friends car- 
ried him to the American camp, where he was placed 
upon a litter. Captain Johnny, w^ho had left them 
upon the return trip, arrived next morning, bringing 
with him the scalp of Chief Winnemac. Logan lin- 
gered for a few days, and then succumbed to his 
wound. " I have removed all suspicion upon my 
honor," said he. " Now I am willing to die. My two 
sons must be educated by the people of Kentucky. 

Thus perished the namesake of the noble-hearted 
Colonel Logan, who helped to clear Kentucky of the 
savage tribes, and who soon afterwards rounded out 
his life of splendid activity, and died universally la- 
mented. To such pioneers the state owes a deep debt 
of gratitude. 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE: 

FAMOUS LEADER OF THE BORDERLAND 
OF KENTUCKY 

ONE of the foremost of the pioneers : one of 
the noblest of men : one of the most daring 
of fighters : such was George Rogers Clarke 
of Virginia. Like Daniel Boone of Kentucky, Clarke 
was not only a brave warrior in the rough and ready 
annies of the Middle West, but was also a potent 
factor in the destinies of the American people. 

Born in Albemarle County, Virginia, he early 
made his way to Kentucky. At twenty-three we find 
him engaged as a surveyor in this virgin land, and 
as he was a large and powerful man like George 
Washington, he coi.ild easily contend with the dif- 
ficulties of his profession. So inspiring, in fact, was 
his appearance, that he was entrusted with the com- 
mand of the militia upon his first visit to the border. 
He had a soldierly bearing and a grave and thought- 
ful mien. 

After remaining for a time in Kentucky, this noble 
borderer returned to Virginia in order to settle up 
his affairs. He saw that a conflict would soon take 
place for the possession of the Middle West between 
the Americans, the French, the English — who had a 
chain of forts extending down the Mississippi from 

64 




GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE. 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 65 

Detroit, Michigan, to Vincennes, Indiana — and the 
redskins. Which party would win? That remained 
to be yet settled. Clarke, of course, sided with the 
American pioneers who were pressing westward from 
Virginia and Tennessee. 

" The Indians," said he, " are incited to burning, 
scalping, and murdering our peaceful settlers upon 
the border, by the tongues of the British soldiers, who, 
supplying them with food from their forts, are con- 
tinually egging them on to rapine and murder. Our 
only salvation, as settlers, lies in organization and 
military training. We must equip ourselves with 
arms and ammunition and must press against them 
before they grow so strong that they can crush 
us." 

He suggested that the Kentuckians assemble in 
convention, and that there they should discuss the 
affairs most dear to the hearts of all. To this the 
people readily assented, and at this meeting chose 
Qarke, himself, and a man named Jones, as delegates 
to the Virginia Assembly. They were to go to the 
older state and were to ask for five hundred pounds 
of gunpowder for purposes of defense against the 
redskins. 

When they expressed their wants they were met 
with a cold reception. 

" We will lend you this important supply," they 
were told by those in authority. " But you must guar- 
antee its repayment and must defray all expenses con- 
nected with its carriage across the mountains." 

Clarke was indignant at these terms. 



66 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" This is not the treatment that brave borderers 
deserve," he said. " This should be a free offering 
to the men who stand as a breastwork between you 
yourselves and the redskins. If you allow your out- 
lying posts to be swept away by the British and In- 
dians, then the tide of warfare will roll over your own 
settlements, and you will realize — too late — the 
folly of your refusal." 

To this remonstrance the council replied that they 
could not better their offer. 

But Clarke was a fighter. 

" You do not realize the dangers of your position," 
he again stated to them. " We apply to you for aid 
because you are nearest and dearest to us. But — if 
you refuse us — we can go to New York and there 
obtain our supplies. We have pushed into this coun- 
try. We have settled it. We are of your own blood. 
We claim it. A country which is not worth defend- 
ing is not worth claiming." 

This was the way to talk to the hard-headed Vir- 
ginians. After an earnest debate it was decided to 
recall Clarke and to comply with his request. An 
order for five hundred pounds of powder was given 
to him. It was to be delivered at Pittsburgh, subject 
to his demand, and for use by the borderers of Ken- 
tucky. 

" I am deeply grateful to you, my brothers," said 
Clarke. " This gift will be well used and my people 
will be very thankful to you for it. God bless the 
noble settlers of Virginia!" 

With a small force of seven men, the daring pioneer 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 67 

now went to Fort Pitt for the powder, and carrying 
it in canoes, safely transported it to a place called 
Limestone, Kentucky. Indians were thick in this 
country, and all were hostile. But he came safely 
through the wild places and carefully secreted the 
powder at various points, where it could be found by 
the borderers when needed. 

Daniel Boone was now an old man and was so 
modest that he refused to thrust himself forward and 
become a leader around whom the settlers could rally. 
All eyes, therefore, turned to Clarke, whose merits 
were now recognized as a gallant fighter and able com- 
mander. The borderers saw that they here had an 
unselfish fellow who had their own interests in view, 
and who had obtained well-needed assistance for them. 
They knew that, without powder, they must be swept 
back before the storm of Indian invasion. The time 
for a leader had now come, and destiny had sent to the 
Kentuckians George Rogers Clarke — the brave and 
the noble. 

This soldier now addressed the settlers upon sev- 
eral occasions and in several different places. He told 
them that they must assume an aggressive attitude and 
must attack the Indian villages, destroy their crops, 
burn their habitations, and teach them the horrors of 
invasion. 

" We must not wait to be attacked ourselves," said 
he, " We must do the attacking. We must strike 
before we are struck, and must hit hard." 

The Kentuckians were stirred by these speeches of 
Clarke and swore to follow him to the death. 



68 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" Lead on ! Lead on ! " cried they. " We will fol- 
low and will do our best to clear the land of our red 
enemies." 

This pleased the leader of the borderers, for he saw 
that his own spirit animated his men. He therefore 
wrote to the Governor of Virginia, telling him of his 
plans for border warfare, and requesting aid. Men 
and ammunition were sent him. An expedition was 
speedily organized at Louisville — then called the 
Falls of the Ohio — and the border soldiers started 
down the stream in boats. At the mouth of the Ten- 
nessee River a party of hunters were met with. From 
them Clarke learned that the garrisons at Kaskaskia 
and Kahokia were fully aware of his coming and were 
quite ready to give his men a hot reception. 

" The greater portion of the French," said the 
guides, " prefer American to English rule. You will 
find no difficulty in winning them over to your cause." 

These men were taken along as scouts, and, creep- 
ing quietly through the wilderness, they surrounded 
and captured Kaskaskia without shedding a drop of 
blood. So kind were Clarke's followers to the inhab- 
itants that many accompanied them on the march to 
Kahokia, — a town just opposite St. Louis, Missouri. 
Both places were populated mainly by people of 
French extraction who adhered to the cause of France 
in America. 

Clarke was a diplomat. Some one has said that 
" he eked out the courage of a lion with the cunning 
of a fox." At any rate, he knew enough to make a 
firm friend of the parish priest, Monsieur Gerbault, 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 69 

who consented to go to Vincennes — in the absence 
of the British commander, who had gone to Detroit — 
and induce the garrison there to embrace the cause 
of the Kentuckians. He was successful. After a 
lengthy harangue the fort went over to the Americans 
and its command was given to a Captain Helm, one 
of Clarke's Lieutenants. 

Clarke had accomplished what was thought to be 
the impossible. Without any difficulty whatsoever he 
had captured three forts and had persuaded all the 
inhabitants to join his standard. But these were the 
French. There were still the redskinned devils who 
would soon be burning, plundering, and massacring 
upon the borders. Clarke needed more men. So he 
promptly organized the French intO' militia companies 
with which to garrison the captured fort, appointed 
French officers to command them, and was thus able 
to use all of his Kentucky backwoodsmen in dealing 
with the redskins. 

The French and Spaniards never asked for peace 
from the Indians but always harshly demanded what- 
ever they might desire. Clarke determined to adopt 
their course. This kind of diplomacy is that which 
usually wins with the American Indian, for the red 
man could never comprehend why the whites would 
offer peace if they felt at all certain that they could 
accomplish their purpose by means of war. The In- 
dians never made treaties unless they had met with a 
reverse and were in the presence of a superior enemy. 
When Clarke demanded like a warrior it suited their 
ideas much better than if he had asked like a squaw. 



70 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

We now come to the most extraordinary event in 
his career: an event which marks him as a man of 
courage and capacity. When things were going 
against him he managed to turn the tide in his own 
favor with remarkable ability. 

Braving great dangers and privations, he met the 
redskins in their own villages and conferred with 
them. Two attempts were made upon his life, but 
he escaped all harm and managed to secure a treaty 
of peace upon terms which the red men had first 
spurned. The treaty was signed and Clarke's eyes 
looked hungrily at Detroit — the great stronghold 
of the British. He had not sufficient men to take 
it. 

Two detachments from his small army captured a 
British post on the upper Wabash, garrisoned by 
forty men. This aroused the British to greater ac- 
tivity. The Kentuckians and French were coming 
too near for either pleasure or safety. Besides this, 
the savages had begun to waver in their allegiance to 
the British flag as they saw the success of the pioneers 
from across the Ohio River. 

Vincennes, as you know, had gone over to the 
Americans, and there was but a small force there of 
French militia. Two Americans were in charge : a 
Captain Helm and a Mr. Henry. On the fifteenth 
day of December, 1778, the English Governor of 
Detroit appeared before the town with a large body 
of rangers and demanded its surrender. The French 
militiamen immediately ran up a white flag. 

Hamilton approached the fort, and as he neared it, 



GEORGE EOGERS CLARKE 71 

was surprised to find himself confronted by a cannon, 
behind which stood Captain Helm with a lighted 
match in his hand. 

"Halt!" cried Hamilton. "My foolish fellow, I 
demand your instant surrender ! " 

" I'll never surrender," answered Helm, " until you 
settle upon the terms with me." 

" You'll be allowed to march out with all the honors 
of war," said the British Governor. " And you will 
be held a prisoner until exchanged. The militia will 
be disarmed and paroled." 

" All right," answered Captain Helm. " These 
terms suit me exactly. 

Imagine the feelings of the good, old Governor. 
Instead of seeing a great body of men debouch from 
the fort, preceded by a brilliant staff, out marched a 
few ragged militiamen headed by Captain Helm, with 
one solitary private. It is said that the noble soldier 
could not help laughing. At any rate, he felt so well 
over the affair that he did not attempt the reduction 
of Kaskaskia and Kahokia — as he should have done 
— but was content to send parties of his men on 
forays against the settlements along the Ohio River. 
News was soon brought to Clarke of the capture of 
Vincennes. The old war-dog was much disconcerted. 
Hamilton in possession of Vincennes ! It was almost 
past belief, yet runners soon came to him from the 
frontier, who confirmed the ill tidings. What was 
he to do? He had only two hundred men. Hamil- 
ton had three or four times that number. It was the 
middle of winter and he was short of all manner of 



72 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

supplies. The entire country was flooded. He had 
a single flat-bottomed batteau. Should he wait to be 
attacked, or should he attempt the seemingly impos- 
ible and endeavor to re-take Vincennes? He an- 
swered the question by turning, one day, to his com- 
patriots, and saying: 

" Whether I stay here or march against Hamilton 

— if I don't take him, he will take'me. By Heaven, 
I'll take him!" 

And to this his men cried : 
" Lead on ! Where you go we will follow ! " 
Now was such a march as the world had seldom 
seen before. The brave and valiant Arnold, who took 
his rangers through the depths of the Maine forest 
to the attack on Qtiebec at the outbreak of the Amer- 
ican Revolution, was such a one as this lion-hearted 
pioneer. Arnold lost a great many men : Qarke did 
not lose any; but the difficulties of the journey were 
severe. Through the cold of winter, the chilling rain, 
the mud and icy water, — the latter often three feet 
deep, — marched the Kentucky rangers. They 
reached a miserable country called " the drowned 
lands," and for miles were waist-deep in the water. 
The way was full of crevasses and mud-holes into 
which some of the men sank up to their necks. Clarke 
was always in the front, sharing the hardships of his 
followers, and outdoing them in the contempt for 
peril and suffering. An occasional spot of dry ground 

— a few yards in extent — was a welcome sight to 
the half-drowned rangers. Still they pressed onward 
upon their mission. 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 73 

" On, boys ! " said George Rogers Clarke. " We 
will take this post or die in the attempt! " 

Splashing forward, the scouts and rangers soon 
reached the two branches of the Wabash River. Or- 
dinarily three miles of solid ground lay between the 
two streams. Now there was a continuous sheet of 
water before their eyes. The command stopped, 
amazed. They had come to an apparently unsur- 
mountable obstacle. But there were no obstacles to 
George Rogers Clarke. 

Striding to the front, and holding his rifle aloft in 
order to keep the priming dry, he dashed into the 
stream. The rest followed with songs and with 
cheers. But the chilling water soon made these cease, 
for it became an irksome task to breathe. They stag- 
gered with fatigue, but their leader never faltered, 
and there was not a man who would have deserted 
him. On the seventeenth day of February they reached 
the eastern shore of the Wabash and came to the 
lowlands of the Embarrass River. It was nine miles 
to their goal : the fortress of Vincennes. Every foot 
of the way was covered with deep water. 

The situation seemed to be desperate. Clarke, how- 
ever, was not the one to despair. Taking a canoe, 
he made soundings to see if some path might not be 
discovered through this inland sea. There seemed to 
be none — the water everywhere reached to his neck. 
The men were alarmed. Their faces looked blanched 
and pale. Was their march of untold hardships to 
end in death by cold and starvation? 

A surprising thing now took place. Whispering to 



74 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

those nearest to him to follow his example, Clarke 
poured some powder into his hand, wet it with water 
and blackened his face as a sign that he would suc- 
ceed, or die in the attempt. Then — uttering a loud 
whoop — he dashed into the water. The frontiers- 
men gazed wonderingly at him. Then they broke 
into song, rushed after him, and made for a ridge of 
high ground, which was followed until an island was 
reached. Here they camped, but next morning the 
ice had formed to the thickness of three-quarters of 
an inch. You can well imagine what were their pros- 
pects ! 

But Clarke was never daunted or dismayed. Ma- 
king a speech to his half-starved and half-frozen com- 
mand, he again plunged into the water. 

"We must do or die!" said he. "On to Vin- 
cennes ! " 

With a rousing cheer his followers dashed in after 
him — pushed through the broken ice — and waded 
ahead. The water became more and more deep. 
Clarke feared, therefore, that the weaker members of 
the party would be drowned. Luckily he had a few 
canoeists with him, and these picked up the fainting 
ones and carried them to hillocks of dry land. The 
strongest were sent forward with instructions to pass 
the word back that the water was getting shallow, 
and they were told to cry " Land ! Land ! " when they 
got near the woods. 

This cheered the drooping spirits of the faint- 
hearted. The water never did get shallow. Wood- 
land was certainly ahead, but when the men reached 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 75 

it water was up to their shoulders and they had to 
hang to the trees, bushes and logs, until rescued by 
the canoes. Some gained the shore in safety, some 
were so exhausted when they reached a small island 
that they could not climb up the bank and lay half in 
and half out of the water. Luck was with them, for 
a canoe came down the river in which were some 
Indian squaws and their children. They were cap- 
tured, and with them was some bufTalo meat, tallow, 
corn, and cooking utensils. Oh, lucky find! The 
weak were now rejuvenated by a hearty meal. 

They were upon an island of ten acres. It was 
truly an Eden for these half-drowned frontiersmen. 
A long rest soon strengthened the weakest, and by 
means of the Indian canoe, and a few batteaus which 
had been brought with them, they ferried over to 
Warrior's Island, within two miles of Vincennes, and 
within plain view of it. Every man feasted his eyes 
upon the log fortress and forgot that he had suffered. 

Let me here quote from Clarke himself. He says : 

" Every man forgot his troubles. It was now that 
we had to display our abilities. The plain between us 
and the town was perfectly level. The sunken ground 
was covered with water full of ducks. We observed 
several men out on horseback, shooting them, and 
sent out many of our active, young Frenchmen to 
decoy and take one prisoner, — which they did. 

" We learned that the British had that evening 
completed the wall of the fort, and that there were a 
good many Indians in town. Our situation was now 
truly critical. There was no possibility of retreat in 



76 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

case of defeat, and we were in full view of a town 
with six hundred men in it, — troops, Indians and 
inhabitants. 

" We were now in the very situation that I had 
labored to get ourselves in. The idea of being taken 
prisoner was foreign to almost every man, as they 
expected nothing but torture. We knew that success 
could be secured only by the most daring conduct. I 
knew that a number of the inhabitants wished us well : 
that the Grand Chief — Tobacco's son — had openly 
declared himself a friend of the Big Knives (Amer- 
icans). I therefore wrote and sent the following 
Placard. 

"TO THE INHABITANTS OF POST 
VINCENNES : 

" Gentlemen : — Being now within two miles of 
your village with my army, determined to take the 
fort this night, and not being willing to surprise you, 
I take this method to request such as are true citizens 
to remain still in your houses. Those, if any there be, 
that are friends to the King, will instantly repair to 
the fort, join the ' Hair buyer ' general, and fight 
like men. If any such do not go, and are found after- 
wards, they may depend on severe punishment. On 
the contrary, those who are true friends to liberty 
may depend on being well treated, and I once more 
request them to keep out of the streets. Every one 
I find in arms on my arrival, I shall treat as an enemy. 

" G. R. Clarke." 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 77 

This was written by a pioneer general with two 
hundred half-starved, half-frozen, and undrilled 
troops. Behind the walls of the fort were twice this 
number of well-drilled, well-fed, well-clad men. We 
can but admire his audacity and impudence. But did 
he fulfil his promises to his people at home. And did 
he take Hamilton? 

The frontiersmen were soon in motion and marched 
upon the town. A hill intervened, and when he 
reached it, Clarke deployed his men across it several 
times. When they would get over, Clarke would 
run them around the base to the rear of the knoll — 
where they would be out of sight of the people in the 
fort — and then would march them across again. In 
this way he made the inmates of the fortress of Vin- 
cennes believe that he had a much larger force than 
was really his. The borderers soon seized all the posi- 
tions which commanded the fort and waited until dusk 
before beginning the assault. " I fear that they will 
know my numbers, if I attack during daylight," said 
the Kentuckian, " and this I do not want them to 
know." 

As night began to draw near, the crashing of rifles 
awoke the echoes of the forest and the fort was 
hotly assailed from every point of vantage. The 
Kentuckians were able marksmen and soon silenced 
the cannon of the redoubt. No sooner would a port- 
hole be thrown open than the gunners would be 
shot down as they stood. After an hour of such work 
the firing ceased, and the garrison was summoned to 
surrender. 



78 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

Hamilton was dumbfounded at the audacity of the 
Kentuckians. He was also much disconcerted by the 
actions of one hundred of his redskin allies, who, 
seeing the boldness of the frontiersmen, immediately 
transferred their allegiance to them and were anx- 
ious to join in the assault upon the post. In spite of 
this he refused to surrender. 

A far heavier rifle fire was now opened upon the 
fort, so that no defender could look out of a port- 
hole or expose himself in any manner whatsoever, 
without being shot down. An assault was determined 
upon. 

At this juncture a couple of figures emerged from 
the principal gateway of Vincennes, bearing a flag of 
truce. When the emissaries arrived before Clarke, 
they brought word that Hamilton proposed a three 
days' truce and an immediate conference. Clarke did 
not wish the British to know his real numbers, so he 
declined the truce. But he assented to have a talk 
with the English commander, some distance from the 
fort, at a place where the Englishman's eyes could not 
see the small numbers of the Kentuckians. 

After a long interview nothing came of the pow- 
wow. Hamilton asked to march out with all the 
honors of war and to be allowed to depart to Detroit, 
after giving the assurance that neither he nor his men 
would ever again bear arms against the Americans. 
Qarke was afraid that the soldiers would not keep 
their word and demanded a greater amount of money 
and stores than the Britisher was willing to allow him. 

" I have sufficient force to take the fort by storm 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 79 

at any time I choose," said Clarke. " Furthermore, 
I propose to capture all the detached parties that are 
now in the woods and are headed for Vincennes. 
Having put them out of the way, I intend to take 
the fort at my leisure. I will thus — at one stroke — 
put an end to all of those people that have been har- 
assing the American frontier. In case I take you 
by storm, I intend to shut my eyes and let my men 
do their own pleasure, for such is the treatment that 
has been accorded to our own people by the officers 
of the Crown." 

The conference broke up, and so terrified was a 
Major Hay, who represented the English commander, 
that he could scarcely make his way back to Vincennes. 
As he wobbled along, a party of redskins — led by a 
white man painted as an Indian — was seen to ap- 
proach the town. The newcomers apparently had no 
knowledge that the Kentuckians were foes, for they 
walked up as if they were nearing their own people. 

When they had approached within a few yards of 
the men under Clarke, they were fired upon and two 
were killed. Three others were badly wounded. The 
remainder — six in all — turned in flight, but were 
soon taken prisoners. They were tomahawked by the 
red allies of the Kentuckians ; their bodies were 
thrown into the river; and wild war-whoops an- 
nounced this fact to the red men in the fort. These 
became enraged and frightened when they discovered 
that Hamilton was unable to protect them. 

Clarke only smiled, for he had hoped that they 
would bring on a mutiny within the walls of Vin- 



80 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

cennes, and it is exactly what occurred. Seeing that 
he was unable to hold the allegiance of his own red 
adherents, the once bold Hamilton decided upon capit- 
ulation. On February twenty-fourth a white flag was 
displayed over the log walls, and, after a short parley, 
a truce was decided upon. The Kentuckians secured 
fifty thousand dollars' worth of military stores. Be- 
sides this they detached the Indians from the Eng- 
lish and took away from the Britons the entire north- 
east territory, which would otherwise have been held 
by them when peace was concluded. Clarke, with his 
two hundred raw Kentucky riflemen, had won a nota- 
ble victory. 

Think of it! The long march, the terrible rivers of 
frozen ice, the lack of proper food, the toilsome jour- 
ney through deep forests! Then the cheek and gall 
of that saucy message to Hamilton, safe in a strong 
fortress with twice the number of men as those half- 
frozen backwoodsmen outside! Then the daring at- 
tack, the wonderful accuracy of the rifle fire, and the 
final victory ! Such men were heroes. Whether your 
sympathies be with Kentuckian or Britisher, you must 
admit it, and you must — I own — take off your hat 
to Clarke: the twenty-seven year old leader of this 
gallant band. 

But what of the subsequent career of this wonder- 
fully successful man ? Alas ! What we know of his 
thereafter does not abound to his credit. To the 
enthusiasm of youth he joined the daring ambition of 
the born soldier : never satisfied. Always anxious to 
move forward and on, he asked the Kentucky Assem- 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 81 

bly for men and agreed to capture Detroit ; to destroy 
the English power for all time; and to prevent fur- 
ther combination of unfriendly tribes of red men. 
He was promised both soldiers and ammunition, but 
they never came. It is said that in disgust at his 
forced inaction he took to drink for relief from his 
worries. He became dissipated, morbid, and a recluse. 

For some time he rested in inactivity near the Falls 
of the Ohio, and about the year 1780 built Fort Jef- 
ferson on the Mississippi. He then journeyed to 
Richmond, Virginia, in order to appeal in person for 
the necessary means for taking Detroit. His plans 
were thought well of and were approved. But the 
measure never passed the legislature. Before it could 
be put into effect he was appointed to command a body 
of troops who were to check the aggressive operations 
of Benedict Arnold. He was made a Brigadier- 
General and was authorized to collect a large force, 
which w^as to meet at Louisville (the Falls of the 
Ohio) and was to fall upon Detroit and destroy this 
strong citadel of British authority. 

Misfortune seemed to follow upon his footsteps. 
The force w^as never collected and the projected cam- 
paign had to be abandoned. He and his men had 
several brushes with marauding bands of Ohio In- 
dians, and in 1782 took part in the unfortunate battle 
of Blue Licks, in Kentucky. Rallying a detachment 
of one thousand men, Clarke invaded the Indian towns, 
but the savages fled from their villages and scattered, 
so that there was no one to fight when the borderers 
entered. Fortune had forsaken George Rogers Clarke, 



82 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

and, although in 1786 he led another expedition of 
one thousand men against the Indians on the Wabash 
River, it resulted in an absolute failure. His follow- 
ers were mutinous. The campaign had to be aban- 
doned. The hero who could inspire a march of two 
hundred miles through half-frozen forests had lost liis 
former magnetism. He had begim to go down hill. 

Dispirited, somewhat broken in health, and faint- 
hearted, the bold frontiersman sought the seclusion of 
his hut near the Ohio River. Here he was offered and 
accepted a commission in the French armies west of 
the Mississippi, for this land was then under the lilies 
of France. An expedition was about to be made 
against the Spaniards upon the lower reaches of the 
river, but a revolution in France overturned the party 
in power and destroyed all the plans of those in Amer- 
ica. Clarke was soon no longer Major General, and, 
forced to a life of inactivity, he returned to an iso- 
lated and lonely existen)ce in his log hut. At forty 
years of age he was a prematurely old man, and in 
181 7 he died at Louisville, Kentucky: a town which 
was growing rapidly in size and which had been the 
scene of many of his early triumphs. Exposure and 
neglect of the proper laws of living had done their 
work. 

George Rogers Clarke was a remarkable man. As 
a youngster he was brimful of enthusiasm, of vigor, 
of magnetism. He carried an expedition through to 
success in the face of fearful obstacles. Had he shown 
the white feather for an instant he would have met 
with ignominious failure. His courage, his cheerful- 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE 83 

ness, his optimism impelled him on to victory. Had 
he been able to govern his appetite for liquor he would 
have been a man of splendid usefulness in his later 
years. His collapse at the early age of forty is full 
witness to the deplorable effects of the inability of a 
strong man to curb his passions. One can but look 
upon his career with sadness and regret. 



JOHN SLOVER: 

SCOUT UNDER CRAWFORD AND HERO 
OF EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES 

TWO red men paddled down the White River, 
far in the western portion of the state of 
Virginia, one bright morning in the month 
of May, 1765. As they rounded a bend in the stream, 
before them was a little trapper's son, apparently with 
no one with him. He was throwing pebbles into the 
water and was laughing as they splashed upon the sur- 
face of the stream. 

" How ! " grunted one of the braves. " I like to 
have young paleface in my lodge. I make him take 
the place of my own papoose, whom the Great Spirit 
has stolen from me." 

" You can get him," suggested the other. " Come 
on, let us paddle towards the little one and capture 
him." 

As the redskins approached, the boy looked at them 
with no sign of fear, and laughed at their solemn- 
looking faces. But they did not laugh. Instead of 
this, the one in the bow leaped upon the shore, seized 
the youngster, and carried him to the canoe, where 
he was bound by deer thongs and was quickly paddled 
down stream. His parents looked for him in vain 
that evening, and for many evenings, but their little 

84 




JOHN SLOVER. 



JOHN SLOVER 85 

son never returned. Thus John Slover became a ward 
of the redskins. 

The Indians were then living at Sandusky, upon 
the Ohio River, and here the Httle white boy grew 
up to be a man. Adopted by the Miami tribe, he 
learned to love their ways, to live the wild, roving 
life as a trapper and hunter, and to be more at home 
in the forest than in the houses of those of his own 
race. In the autumn of 1773, a treaty was made at 
Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, between the Miamis and the 
whites, and at this place was a big gathering of the 
savages and frontiersmen, with their families. Jack 
Slover was interested in the affair and hung around 
the clusters of talkers, who were eagerly discussing 
the terms of the articles of agreement. 

"Hello!" came a voice, as he was near one ani- 
mated group. "If this isn't little Jack Slover grown 
to be a man! Turn around, son, and see if you don't 
recognize me." 

The adopted ward of the Miamis spun about upon 
his heel, and there saw a raw-boned trapper, who was 
gazing at him with an inquiring eye. 

" I certainly do not recognize you," he replied. 
" Who are you, anyway? " 

The young fellow knew of his kidnapping, when 
a small boy, but had never cared to go back to his own 
people. 

The frontiersman now seized him by the shoulders. 
" Why, I'm your father's brother, Tom Slover ! I 
saw that you were not a Miami the minute I looked 
at you, and I found out that you had been captured 



86 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

many years ago by the Indians. Upon closer inspec- 
tion it was easy to perceive that you were my brother's 
son. My boy, we have been waiting to find you for 
years. You will now come back to us, won't you? " 

Young Slover hung his head, for he was loath to 
part from the friends and companions of his youth. 
He was on the point of refusing, but, just then, an- 
other frontiersman approached who announced that 
he was his father. The meeting between son and 
parent was not demonstrative; in fact, the youth 
rather drew away from his own flesh and blood. 
Soon, however, he became more reconciled, and, after 
an hour's conversation, agreed to accompany his kins- 
men to their home in Westmoreland County, Penn- 
sylvania. 

The conference- was soon over, both Indians and 
whites were agreed upon the terms of the treaty, and 
the captured son of the pioneer went back to his own 
country, where he seemed to be contentedly abiding 
at the outbreak of the American Revolution. He was 
one of the first to enlist, and, because of his experience 
in woodcraft, was made a sharpshooter. In this 
branch of the service he did good work, and was hon- 
orably discharged at the close of the struggle with 
the Mother Country. 

Some years after the Revolutionary War — in 1782 
— the redskins of the Middle West became very bold, 
and made frequent incursions upon the white settle- 
ments of Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia. 
Prompt vengeance was demanded by the pioneers who 
had penetrated into the wilderness and had there built 



JOHN SLOVER 87 

their homes. An expedition was determined upon, 
and Colonel William Crawford — a brave officer of 
the Revolutionary War — was selected as its com- 
mander. The time and place of rendezvous were 
fixed for May 20th, 1782, at a point on the western 
shore of the Ohio, forty miles above Fort Pitt. There 
were four hundred and fifty volunteers ; among them 
an accomplished surgeon, Dr. Knight. 

Just before the expedition got under way. Colonel 
Crawford approached Slover, and said : 

" My good friend, we are in need of a scout and 
guide upon our expedition. You know this country 
like a book, so I would like to engage you as one of 
our forerunners and assistants. Will you go with 
us?" 

The adopted ward of the Miamis was reluctant to 
accept. 

" I have lived with these Indians whom you intend 
to attack," said he. " I have slept with them ; hunted 
with them ; have eaten with them. Surely you would 
not have me turn upon all of my old friends?" 

The Colonel smiled. 

"Yes, but what sort of friends?" he answered. 
" Here they have been murdering innocent women 
and children. Have been burning homes, killing cat- 
tle and horses. They have been subjecting their pris- 
oners to horrible tortures. You are too much of a 
man not to appreciate the need of checking these on- 
slaughts upon our people." 

" The whites are gradually encroaching upon their 
lands, — the lands which they believe that the Great 



88 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

Spirit has given to them," replied Slover, in a delib- 
erate tone. " Can you blame them for resenting these 
advances? They are children, too, of the wilderness 
and they fight like the wild beasts who surround 
them." 

" Then you refuse to accompany us? " 

" No, not so. Upon thinking over the matter, I 
believe that it is impossible for the two races to live 
side by side, unless one race is supreme. That the 
whites will overrun the country is only too evident. I 
will go with you, for I certainly do not approve of 
the manner in which they have conducted their war- 
fare, and I believe that they must be punished." 

The march was soon commenced, but, in a few 
days, some of the volunteers broke ranks and started 
for their homes. It was impossible to hold them. 
Further signs of insubordination were soon in evi- 
dence, some of the men demanding that they be sent 
back to their cabins, declaring that their horses were 
jaded and that their provisions were almost exhausted. 
Not long afterwards two skulking Indians were seen 
spying upon the advance. They were fired upon, but 
escaped. It was now evident that all secrecy was out 
of the question. The men grew mutinous and were 
so unruly that the officers requested them to continue 
for only one day longer, and then if no Indians were 
found they were to return. This was being discussed 
when one of the advance pickets dashed in, crying out : 
" The Indians are ahead of us about a mile. They 
are drawn up in the timber and are waiting for us ! " 

At this news a loud whoop came from the lusty 



JOHN SLOVER 89 

throats of the frontiersmen, and they discontinued 
their complaints. Priming their rifles and fingering 
their powder-horns, they pressed forward to the at- 
tack, while their leader, Crawford, who had fine mili- 
tary judgment, saw that the enemy had seized a posi- 
tion of great strength, from which they must be driven 
at once. He therefore urged on his men to the charge. 

As the order came, the pioneers dismounted and 
rushed boldly upon the redskins in front and upon the 
flanks, hunting them from the woods, across an open 
field, and into some dense forest-land in the rear. 
Here the savages were heavily reinforced, and Craw- 
ford's Rangers were almost driven from the timber by 
the wily braves, who were now fighting from every 
bush, stump, hillock and tree. The battle waged with 
great fury until dark, when the savages withdrew, 
and the trappers slept upon the ground, ready to re- 
sume the affair in the morning. 

As daylight appeared the battle was renewed at 
long range, neither side being anxious for a hand- 
to-hand engagement. It was plainly evident that the 
Indians were constantly being reinforced. Their 
whooping and yelling grew more and more derisive, 
and they began to extend their lines so as to flank the 
men of the frontier. For this reason, the officers 
decided upon a retreat. 

Slover, the scout, was far over to the right, watch- 
ing some horses, and no news of the intended move- 
men was brought to him. Soon the uproar of retreat 
came to his ears and warned him of his danger. He 
therefore selected the finest horse among those under 



90 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

his charge, mounted it, and fled after his comrades, 
who became rapidly disorganized. The red men fired 
a volley in the direction of the frontiersmen, at which 
one of the Crawford Rangers shouted : " The enemy 
have found out our design ! Save yourselves ! Save 
yourselves ! " 

Panic now became general, and so great was the 
disorder that it was plainly heard in the lines of the 
Indians, among whom was the famous renegade, 
Simon Girty. " Out, men," he cried, " and pick up 
the stragglers, for these Americans have whipped 
themselves ! " 

Those who had been wounded were dropped at the 
beginning of the rout and were speedily dispatched 
by the tomahawks of the savages. The rest fled in 
whatever way they could, without semblance of order 
or discipline, and, as they ran helter-skelter through 
the forest, were pursued by the exultant redskins with 
wild and blood-curdling whooping. Slover galloped 
along with some difficulty, as the ground was very 
rough, and soon found further obstructions in his path, 
for a wide bog lay before him, which extended for 
a great distance in either direction. 

Some of the fugitives were unable to get across the 
bog on foot, but Slover and a few others were able 
to cross on their horses. As they fled on through the 
darkness of night, behind them echoed the horrid yells 
of the savages, the rifle shots of the whites, and the 
shrieks of the wounded. Six fugitives joined the flee- 
ing scout, two of whom had lost their rifles, and, as 
the Indians were pressing them furiously, they headed 



JOHN SLOVER 91 

for the settlement of Detroit, hoping to elude the 
red men as they went. They ran into another portion 
of the swamp a few hours later, and halted there for 
a slight repast of cold pork and corn bread — of which 
they had a small supply in their haversacks. 

As they were seated upon some stumps, and were 
munching their repast, they were startled by an In- 
dian whoop very close at hand. 

" We are discovered," whispered Slover. " Hide 
yourselves, my men, in the tall grass." 

Not many moments afterwards, a band of Shaw- 
nees passed by, laughing and talking among them- 
selves, apparently with no idea that the pioneers were 
near. They were well satisfied with the signal defeat 
which they had administered to Crawford and his 
men; had many scalps and much plunder. When 
they were gone, Slover and his companions continued 
on their way, entering upon a sea of waving grass, 
which made it evident that any skulking red men 
would soon discover their whereabouts. 

Silently they plodded across the prairie, but sud- 
denly the man in advance called their attention to the 
fact that some moving objects were approaching. 

" Lie low, boys ! " he shouted. " I think that a 
crowd of redskins are just in front of us." 

He was right, and, as they hid in the tall grass, a 
troop of Indians passed by, moving rapidly and noisily 
along. Fortunately the red men did not discover 
their trail, and with great shouting and singing had 
soon walked out of hearing. The trappers arose, con- 
tinued their flight, and kept a sharp lookout for ene- 



92 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

mies. They were soon to meet with more children of 
the forest. 

Two of the fugitives now became very lame and 
were unable to keep up with the rest of the party. One 
had a bad attack of rheumatism; so bad, in fact, that 
he fell way behind the rest and did not come up, 
although they whistled, called, and strove to attract 
his attention in every possible way, in spite of the 
danger of being discovered by lurking redskins. They 
finally went on without him, and gave him up for lost. 
He at length reached Wheeling in safety, having 
passed through many dangers and hair-breadth es- 
capes from capture by roving Indians. 

Slover and his friend were hurrying towards the 
settlements, and naturally left a well-defined trail 
behind them. This was followed for several days by a 
band of Shawnees, who finally decided that the whites 
would be easy to capture and decided to ambush them. 

This they did, and, as the frontiersmen were quietly 
passing between some high bluffs, a volley rang out 
from either side and two of their number fell dead. 
The rest sprang immediately to the shelter of trees, 
where Slover took aim at one of the Indians who 
could be seen raising his hand. 

" Do not fire," said he, in excellent English. " If 
you surrender to us, you will be well treated. We 
will take you to our houses and will allow you to leave, 
in a short time, for your own people." 

Slover and two of the frontiersmen gave themselves 
up immediately, but a young fellow named John Paul 
refused to do so, and, rushing to the rear, managed 



JOHN SLOVER 93 

to get away. The redskins peppered the air with bul- 
lets, but none hit the fugitive and he got safely beyond 
range. After a long and arduous trip through the 
wilderness, he at length reached the frontier settlement 
at Wheeling, West Virginia. 

As John Slover and his companions were being 
taken along by the Indians, one of them recognized 
him as the young paleface who had been brought up 
by the Miamis. 

" You no good, Mannuchcothe," said he. " You 
fight against your own brothers. You kill your own 
people. Ugh ! Ugh ! We fix you for this." 

John Slover began to think that perhaps what the 
savages had promised was not to take place, and when 
once they came in sight of their town, their whole 
demeanor changed. They began to howl and cry out : 

" You are some of those who wish to drive us from 
our country. Death to you ! Death to you ! " 

The squaws, warriors, and children came running 
to meet the captives and began to whip and beat them. 
Then they took the oldest of the frontiersmen and 
blackened his face with charred sticks. 

"Are they going to burn me, Slover?" the poor 
fellow gasped. 

" Do not answer, Mannuchcothe ! " shouted the In- 
dians. " Do not answer! We will not hurt him ! We 
will adopt him ! " 

The red men now took the prisoners to Waughco- 
tomoco, another of their towns, about two miles off, 
but sent a runner in advance to announce their com- 
ing. As the captives came in sight of it they saw 



94 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

hundreds of Indians in a double line, ready to make 
them run the gauntlet. This they did, and although 
Slover got through safely, the frontiersman whose 
face had been blackened, was knocked down, kicked, 
beaten, and shot full of arrows. He reached the coun- 
cil chamber, where he thought that he would be safe, 
and, although he seized one of the posts with both 
hands, he was torn away from it and was soon dis- 
patched with a tomahawk. 

Slover, meanwhile, was left alone, but he had no 
cheerful thoughts, for before him lay the bodies of 
Harold, the son of Crawford, the American leader; 
of a Colonel Harrison ; and of several other promi- 
nent soldiers of the American army. They had all 
been killed during the retreat. His remaining com- 
panion was led away to another town and was never 
again heard of; while the gallant scout, himself, was 
now confronted by a young Miami buck, who said in 
the Indian language : 

" Mannuchcothe, you must come before a council 
and must explain to the old men why you deserted our 
tribe. Mannuchcothe, it will go ill with you." 

The sharpshooter did not worry, for he did not 
believe that his old friends would go back on him. 
In this he was correct, for there seemed to be no great 
amount of malice towards the ex-Miami, until the ap- 
pearance of a white renegade — James Girty — the 
brother of the famous Simon. This scoundrel made 
an impassioned speech, in which he said : 

" My Indian brethren, this white captive should 
suffer death. For not only has he deserted you for 



JOHN SLOVER 95 

your enemies — the palefaces — but when I asked 
him how he would like to live with you again, he told 
me that he would care to remain only long enough to 
take a scalp and then escape. He is your enemy at 
heart and has even now been fighting against you. 
Death, and torture before death, would not be too 
severe for him." 

The scout was outraged and angered by these re- 
marks. 

" What you say is not true," he replied. " I have 
never in my life made the statement that I would only 
remain long enough with my red brethren to take a 
scalp and then escape. I entered this war with reluc- 
tance, and I had not fired a shot up to the time that 
I was captured by my old companions. I am a friend 
of the Miamis and always will be their friend." 

To these remarks the red men grunted an assent 
and allowed him to move, unbound, around the vil- 
lage. He was assigned to a lodge with an old squaw, 
who became very much attached to him, and, not 
many days afterwards, came to him and said : — 

" That James Girty is influencing my brothers 
against you. If you have a chance to escape, you 
must do so, for I fear that they intend to put you out 
of the way." 

Not long afterwards a council of Shawnee, Wyan- 
dot, Delaware, Chippewa, Miami, and Mingo braves 
decided that Slover had been untrue to their race, and 
that he must suffer punishment and death. Two war- 
riors appeared before his wigwam in order to carry 
him away, but the old squaw covered him with her 



96 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

blanket and said that he should not go. When the 
two bucks endeavored to enter, she threw a pot of 
boiling water at them. 

This was too much for the warriors, who retreated 
before the scalding fluid, but they soon returned with 
James Girty and forty Indians, who overpowered the 
fighting squaw. Slover was seized, bound, and his 
body was painted black. This was a sign that he was 
to be tortured and eventually killed. 

Five miles from Waughcotomoco was another In- 
dian town, to which the scout was marched. A vast 
number of red men greeted his coming with fierce 
cheering, and formed in two lines in order to make 
him run the gauntlet. As he raced between them, they 
struck him with clubs, with spears, and with their 
hands. In spite of this he was not badly hurt and 
could walk without assistance to another small town, 
two miles further on, where — in an unfinished coun- 
cil house — he was fastened to a stake. Brush was 
piled around his feet and this was lighted for his 
torture. " I will meet death like a brave man," said 
Slover to himself. Then, turning to the Indians, he 
cried out : " You shall rue the day that ever you put 
an end to John Slover. My white brothers will 
avenge me a hundredfold." 

An Indian orator arose, and, with a fierce and vin- 
dictive speech, sought to fan the flame of the red 
men's passions to the highest pitch. 

"How! How!" cried many voices. "It Is well 
that the white man should die. How ! How ! " 

Slover glowered upon the yelling mob as the crack- 



JOHN SLOVER 97 

ling flames began to creep nearer to his feet. But 
now an unexpected interposition of nature occurred, 
which was greatly in the victim's favor. 

A high wind arose ; dense, black clouds covered the 
sky; the growling of thunder drowned the words of 
the orator and the yelling of his hearers. A sheet of 
rain burst upon the fire at the stake, extinguishing 
it completely, and Slover saw the Indians scatter to 
the cover of their wigwams, where they called out 
to him: 

" We will burn you to-morrow. The Great Spirit 
has helped you, but he cannot save you." 

The shower lasted for over an hour, and when it 
had concluded the red men gathered around the stake, 
where they beat and kicked their captive until eleven 
o'clock at night. Then a brave called Half Moon 
asked him if he did not want to go to sleep. 

" I am exhausted," replied the scout. " H you in- 
tend to kill me to-morrow, loosen my bonds and let 
me rest." 

Half Moon untied the strands which bound the 
weakened frontiersman, carried him to a log hut, and 
there bound him to a pole in the centre, with deer 
thongs which cut tightly into his flesh. A rope was 
placed about his neck and was tied to a rafter of the 
house. Three guards were placed to watch him, and, 
as Half Moon departed, he said : 

" Get a good sleep, paleface. You will need it, for 
to-morrow you will eat fire. This is what comes to 
you for fighting against your own people." 

The scout had not yet lost all hope of making his 



98 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

escape, and carefully considered the possibility of 
getting away. Two of his guards were soon asleep; 
the third (an aged brave) smoked a long, clay pipe 
and told him that he had seen many palefaces tor- 
tured at the stake. " Some weep like squaws," said 
he. " Others bear it like men. You have once been 
a redskin and should be able to stand the fire with- 
out crying. You should come through without a bit 
of trouble." 

On and on he thus rambled until he became worn 
out — his head dropped upon his breast — and he 
began to snore loudly. As the noise of his heavy 
breathing came to the ears of the scout, he began to 
work vigorously at his bonds. By wriggling, tug- 
ging, and pulling, at last his hands were free. He 
reached for the thong about his neck and began to 
chew it with his teeth. 

As he turned and twisted in an endeavor to free 
himself from this remaining bond, day began to break 
and the pale light of dawn flooded the cabin. The 
talkative old Indian awoke; yawned; stretched; and 
looked around at the captive; but Slover clasped his 
hands behind his back as if they were still tied, and 
stood perfectly still. The red man turned over upon 
his side and again composed himself in sleep. It was 
now or never with the captured frontiersman. 

Again seizing upon the rope, Slover gave it a few 
strong jerks, and, biting it with his jaws for a second 
time, suddenly parted it. With his heart bumping 
against his side like a trip-hammer, he stole noise- 
lessly from the lodge. Not an Indian was stirring, 




INDIANS TORTURING A PRISONER. 



JOHN SLOVER 99 

and, darting toward a corn field, he narrowly missed 
stepping upon a squaw with her two children, who 
were asleep beneath a tree. He crept through the 
growing stalks, and upon the other side saw quite a 
number of ponies. Taking the rope from his arm, he 
made a slip-noose of it; selected a fine, young horse; 
threw it over his head; mounted, and rode away like 
mad. His life depended upon his exertions. 

As he dashed off, he heard a door open in an Indian 
lodge and knew that the red men were astir. They 
would soon discover his absence. He would be fol- 
lowed by all of the swiftest and hardest-riding men 
of the encampment. No wonder that he dug his 
heels into the flanks of his pony and urged him to do 
his very best. 

At ten o'clock he reached the Scioto River, — now 
much swollen by the recent thunder shower. But his 
horse was winded and he had to stop in order to give 
him both water and breath, for he was blowing from 
his exertions. He plunged into the stream, crossed it, 
and continued his flight at the fastest pace which his 
horse was able to make. Finally the faithful animal 
began to pant and stagger. He was done for. 

As the Indian pony fell upon his side, Slover leaped 
to the ground and heard a wild yelping behind him 
in the forest. He thus knew that the Indians were 
hot upon his trail. The horse had carried him sev- 
enty miles at a fast pace, which is extraordinary. But 
the animal was now lying prostrate, with the glaze 
of death showing in his eye. He had run a good race. 

The scout bounded forward, loping through the 



100 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

underbrush, timber, and tall grass, and leaving as 
little trail as he could. But his exertions were wear- 
ing heavily upon him, and, about ten o'clock that 
night, he fell exhausted to the ground. He lay in a 
stupor for two hours. 

When he was again able to move, a full moon cast 
its silvery light over the dense woodland, where he 
had fallen, and no sound broke the stillness of the 
night save the weird call of a whippoorwill. The red- 
skins could easily have captured him had they been 
close upon his track, but his care in leaving little trace 
of his flight had thrown them from the pursuit. 
Breathing more easily, he again continued his race for 
life, and, as day came, abandoned his trail for a low, 
rough ridge, where was little grass or soft earth. On, 
on, he continued, occasionally stopping to listen at the 
sounds of the forest, but, except for the occasional 
call of a bird, no voice came to his expectant hearing. 
The red men had lost heart and had returned to their 
wigwams. 

As evening came, the frontiersman reached the 
banks of one of the creeks which empty into the 
Muskingum, and again sank exhausted to the earth. 
The mosquitoes swarmed upon him, biting him un- 
mercifully, and as his hunting suit (which the red 
men had allowed him to put on when tied) was torn 
to tatters by the nettles and briars, they had a splen- 
did opportunity to get at his bare flesh. Some wild 
berries furnished him with much-needed food, — the 
first he had eaten since his escape, — and, if we are 
to believe his word for it, he says that he was so terri- 



JOHN SLOVER 101 

fied with fear, that he had forgotten to feel hungry 
during his flight. " I was fairly peeled from head to 
foot by briars and mosquitoes," he has written. " And 
I was now so hungry that I fell upon two crawfish 
which I found behind a rock in the Muskingum, and 
ate them raw." 

The scout was now refreshed, and plunging into the 
Muskingum, swam to the other shore. Two days 
later he reached the Ohio River, opposite Wheeling, 
West Virginia, and seeing a man in a skiff who was 
apparently fishing, called out to him in a loud voice: 

" Hallo ! Hallo ! Comrade ! I'm a fugitive from 
the Indians and was one of Crawford's men. Come! 
Take me over to the settlement! " 

The fellow did not seem anxious to hasten to his 
relief, for he was afraid that Slover was one of the 
white renegades who had joined the redskins and was 
anxious to trap him. After a long harangue he finally 
rowed to the place where the tattered scout was 
standing. The refugee fairly hugged him for joy, 
and, in a few minutes, was again safe in the settle- 
ment, where he was greeted with warm and affection- 
ate regard by the other men of the frontier, who had 
received many stragglers from the ill-fated expedition 
under Colonel Crawford. 

The escape of John Slover was one of the narrowest 
of which there is any record in the annals of war 
upon the frontier. No wonder that for many years 
the story of this famous affair was the favorite topic 
of conversation, when the after-dinner pipes were 
lighted, and the men of the forest would sit before the 



102 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

glowing embers, there to tell tales concerning the 
heroism and courage of the gallant settlers of the wild 
and undeveloped West. Truly the adventures which 
befell John Slover were the most thrilling of them all. 



LEWIS WETZEL: 

HEROIC VIRGINIA FRONTIERSMAN AND 

IMPLACABLE ENEMY OF THE 

REDSKINS 

BOYS, watch your mother and grandfather for 
a few hours, because I am going out fishing. 
There is no danger of attack from redskins, 
for none have been seen for six months. If, however, 
any one comes to our cabin with news of prowling 
bands, shoot off your rifles three times. This will 
warn me of any danger to you, and I will hasten 
home." 

So spoke John Wetzel, whose cabin was upon the 
far western Virginian frontier, and, turning from his 
two little boys, he plunged into the wilderness. This 
was the last that he ever saw of his wife and her aged 
father. He had not been three days in the forest 
before his cabin was attacked. 

Stealing carefully through the brush, a marauding 
band of savages suddenly made a sortie upon the iso- 
lated house of logs. There was not time to warn the 
inmates of the stealthy approach before the tomahawk 
and scalping-knife were at work. In an hour's time 
all of the inmates had been dispatched, except Lewis 
Wetzel and his little brother, Martin, both of whom 

103 



104 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

were carried off into captivity. Lewis was about thir- 
teen years of age and Martin was eleven. 

" We will soon escape," whispered the older youth. 
" Wait until evening arrives and then I will show you 
how to creep away from these horrible savages." 

Lewis had been severely wounded by an arrow, but 
he stoically bore the pain, and trudged behind his cap- 
tors with no show of ill humor. The Indian prisoner 
who lagged, or who made a cry of distress, would be 
speedily dispatched by the savages, and this he knew. 
The other boy went bravely ahead and said nothing. 

Through the wilderness walked the red men, and 
on the night of the second day they camped twenty 
miles beyond the Ohio River. 

" Ugh ! " spoke a brave. " These children cannot 
escape us now. We will not bind them with thongs 
this evening, but will allow them to go free." 

The savages had underestimated the daring courage 
which was in the heart of Lewis Wetzel. No sooner 
were the red men fast asleep, when, touching his 
brother with his hand, Lewis warned him to keep ab- 
solutely silent and to follow him away into the dark- 
ness. They were barefoot. 

" It is impossible for us to escape without mocca- 
sins," said Lewis, after they had gone some distance. 
" This ground is full of stones, and our feet will be 
ruined. You wait here for me and I will return to 
the camp and get a pair for each of us, and then we 
can easily travel through the wilderness." 

The brave boy not only secured the moccasins but 
also returned with a gun and some ammunition. Then 



LEWIS WETZEL 105 

on they plunged through the forest. Just as the first 
streaks of dawn began to Hght up the gloomy depths, 
behind them echoed the shouts of their enemies, the 
red men. 

" Walk backward upon your trail, brother," said 
Lewis Wetzel. " Then turn to the right and secrete 
yourself in the dense undergrowth. These red men 
will soon catch up to us and we must be thoroughly 
hidden." 

This advice was followed, and it was well, for the 
boys had lain in the covert but a few minutes when 
their captors came bounding past. They were yelling 
to each other and were furious with anger at having 
lost their prisoners. The two Wetzels waited until 
they were out of sight. When the yelping had ceased 
they crept from their hiding-place and ran away to 
the right. In a few hours they heard the Indians 
again returning, and, secreting themselves in some un- 
derbrush, saw some savages dash by on ponies. They 
were not the same red men whom they had first seen, 
but these, also, could not find them. When the red- 
skins were well beyond hearing, the terrified children 
ran to the river, fastened two logs together, and suc- 
ceeded in crossing it. Not long afterwards they 
reached the house of a frontiersman and knew that 
they were safe. When they told him their story, he 
showed great surprise. 

" Bully for you, boys ! " cried the man of the clear- 
ing. " You, Lewis, showed particular courage and 
daring. You are a credit to your poor father, who 
is, I hear, terribly overcome by this butchery of the 



106 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

redskins. I trust that you will both live long and 
useful lives upon the border." 

" Thank you! " cried the boys. " We will do our 
best, anyway, to avenge the terrible injury which the 
red men have inflicted upon our family." 

Thus early was implanted in the breasts of the two 
Wetzels an implacable hatred for the savages. 

It is said that Lewis was the strongest and most 
active of all of the youths upon the western border- 
land of Virginia, and by long practice had gained the 
ability to load his rifle while running at full speed. 
This was an immense advantage to him in his numer- 
ous affrays with the red men. 

Not long after the terrible defeat of Colonel Craw- 
ford, in which John Slover was a participant, a pio- 
neer named Thomas Mills arrived at Wheeling, West 
Virginia, where Lewis Wetzel was temporarily re- 
siding. 

" I have left my good horse at Indian Spring, some 
five miles away," said he. " The country was so 
rough that I could not ride him here, for some red- 
skins were upon my trail. Wetzel, I wish that you 
would accompany me to where he is, for I want to 
be able to hold my own with the savages, should we 
meet any of them." 

" Mills, I'm your man," said Wetzel. So, upon the 
day following, they were on their way towards the 
spring. 

When they arrived at the place where Mills had left 
his horse, they found the animal tied to a bush. 

" That looks mighty suspicious," whispered Wet- 



LEWIS WETZEL 107 

zel to his companion, " because I understand that you 
left him untied. Do not go near the animal until I 
circle around him and see if any savages are in our 
front." 

The pioneer, however, neglected to heed this sage 
counsel and proceeded to untie the pony. As he 
reached down towards the bridle-rein, the head of an 
Indian appeared from behind a rock. 

" Mills ! Mills ! Take to a tree ! " yelled the scout. 
" There's a redskin drawin' er bead on yer ! " 

The warning was unheeded. The frontiersman con- 
tinued to work on the bridle-reins ; then a sharp crack 
was heard, and the red man fell back, shot through 
the forehead by Wetzel. At the same moment a series 
of quick reports came from the brush, and Mills sank 
to the ground, pierced by a half dozen bullets. 

Wetzel started away on the run, for a number of 
top-knots rose from the bushes. Their owners ha- 
stened after him, but were uncautious enough to drop 
their own guns so that they could run all the faster. 
Knowing that he had discharged his piece, they ex- 
pected to soon overtake him, tie his hands behind his 
back, and remove him to their own camp, to run the 
gauntlet and be tortured. They had counted without 
their host. 

The lithe and sinewy trapper raced onward, exert- 
ing his utmost speed, and, finding that he could not 
get away from his pursuers, turned about and fired 
upon the nearest red man. The art of loading upon 
the run, which he had learned, was of tremendous 
assistance to him, for he was thus able to place a bullet 



108 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

in his adversary's chest, which stretched him upon 
the ground. Again he started forward, loading as he 
ran, and, turning a second time, was about to fire, 
when his nearest pursuer seized the muzzle of his rifle. 

" Hah ! Paleface ! I have you ! " cried the red man, 
for he had often been to the settlements and had 
learned how to speak excellent English. 

" Not yet," answered the trapper, and he grappled 
with his antagonist. They were very evenly matched. 
By the greatest exertion, the white man succeeded in 
wresting the redskin's hold from his rifle, and in 
shooting him dead. It was a short struggle, but dur- 
ing it two Indians gained upon the man of the fron- 
tier, so that they were very close indeed. He now 
turned and ran as fast as he was able — loading as he 
went. 

The Indians were whooping wildly, but they had 
knowledge of his skill in loading on the run. When 
he turned again in order to fire, they took hasty de- 
parture to the shelter of some large trees. He kept 
on going — the red men still after him. But he was 
a crafty fellow, as the following will show : 

Having reached a clearing in the forest, he pur- 
posely stumbled and fell, as if exhausted by his race 
for life. The redskins thought that they now had 
him. They bounded forward with exultant shouts, 
but as they came nearer, the bold trapper rolled upon 
his side, raised his rifle, and brought one of them to 
the earth before he could get behind a tree. The 
second Indian turned and fled as fast as he was able, 
howling out in loud tones : 



LEWIS WETZEL 109 

" No catch dat feller. No catch him at all. He 
gun always loaded. He devil with the shooting stick." 

At this the crafty trapper rose to his feet with a 
loud guffaw. 

" These redskins have yet to learn a trick or two," 
said he, chuckling. " They should remember that 
some trappers can load their rifles when on the run. 
My fine fellows — Au revoir ! " 

So saying, he started upon his way to the settle- 
ments, lighting a corn-cob pipe on the way, and still 
chuckling softly to himself. 

Not long after this affair, the father of the two 
Wetzel boys was returning from a hunting excursion 
into the Ohio wilderness. With him were his sons 
Martin and Lewis. The latter had just shot a brown 
bear, and carried the skin with him in the bottom of 
the canoe. As they were gliding down the river, a 
band of Shawnees suddenly appeared upon the bank. 

"Come ashore, palefaces!" said one. "It is not 
good for you to go down the river! " 

" Paddle to the other side of the stream," whis- 
pered the older Wetzel. " Hasten, boys, or their bul- 
lets will reach us." 

Quickly they turned towards the opposite bank, but 
a volley of lead pursued them. They kept on dog- 
gedly. A missile struck the old pioneer, inflicting a 
mortal wound. 

" Lie down, Martin 1 " cried he. " They will get 
you also, if you do not do so." 

Then the heroic old man paddled forward, his life- 
blood ebbing at every stroke. Volley after volley 



no FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

zipped around the frail barque. Again and again the 
frontiersman was struck, so that when well beyond 
range of the Indian rifles he fell fainting to the 
bottom of the canoe. That evening he expired. 

Standing over the body of their parent, both Wet- 
zels took a solemn oath to avenge his untimely end. 

" From now on," said Lewis, " I will use every 
endeavor to slaughter the red men. They have killed 
my dear father. Death shall be upon their own heads. 
Death and no quarter." 

Not a week had elapsed after the sudden end of 
this staunch man of the frontier, when news was 
brought into Wheeling that the Indians were again 
upon the war-path. A scout came running into the 
settlement, crying: 

" The Shawnees and Wyandots are approaching. 
They have slaughtered one man, and are burning, 
killing and scalping. Every able-bodied settler is 
needed to drive them away." 

Immediately all turned out with rifle and powder- 
horn in order to repel the invaders. But before they 
started, a purse of one hundred dollars was made up, 
to go to the first individual who should take an Indian 
scalp. The trail of the marauders was soon struck; 
was followed for several miles ; and was found to be 
very fresh. Then the advance scouts returned with 
the information that a large body of the enemy was 
encamped a few miles ahead. 

" They are too many to be attacked," said the sol- 
diers of the advance. " We must go back to Wheel- 
ing, or they will surround and annihilate us." 



LEWIS WETZEL 111 

They set off upon the return, but they noticed, as 
they did so, that Lewis Wetzel did not move. 

"Are you not going to accompany us?" asked 
some of the trappers. 

The frontiersman scowled. 

" I set out to hunt Indians and thought that this 
had also been your purpose," said he. " My object 
in hunting Indians is to kill them, and now that we 
have treed our game I do not intend to run off with- 
out a shot. As for you, I consider you to be a band 
of cowards." 

" It is too bad about you," said they. " As for 
ourselves, we intend to return home." 

Wetzel gazed after them with an amused smile, 
then stooped and examined his arms, for he was a 
man of caution. 

" I will get a scalp of my own," said he. " Perhaps 
more. These fellows will see that I mean what I 
say." 

There were plenty of Indian signs, but he could 
find no large bands of the red men; instead, he 
stumbled upon a camp with only two braves in 
it. 

" There must be more in the encampment," thought 
he. " I will creep away ; will come back this eve- 
ning; and will then have an opportunity to get what 
I am after." 

Turning again into the forest, he was soon out of 
hearing, and, by great good fortune, came across a 
red deer, which he killed. He had a fine feast. As 
night fell he hastened towards the Indian camp, crept 



112 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

close to it, and found only one red man, instead of 
a dozen or more, as he had expected. He waited until 
the redskin was fast asleep and then made good his 
boast. As he started upon the back trail for the settle- 
ment, a fresh scalp hung at his girdle. 

Owing to his great strength and agility, he reached 
Wheeling just one day behind his companions, instead 
of three. They were delighted to see him. 

" My boy," cried they, " you have certainly made 
good and are entitled to the greatest possible credit. 
Bully for you ! " 

The trapper in fact was more than a match for 
many redskins, as the following will show : 

Not long after his return to Wheeling he went out 
into the forest in order to get some venison to dry 
and salt for winter use. He saw no game, but sud- 
denly stumbled upon a camp of four Shawnees, who 
were busily engaged in tanning some deer hides. They 
did not see or hear him, so he determined to return 
at nightfall and single-handed to attack the party of 
braves. This he did. 

First, resting his rifle against a tree so that it would 
be close at hand for any emergenc}'^, he drew his toma- 
hawk, uttered a wild yell, and dashed in among the 
savages, cutting down one of them in a moment. Two 
more fell beneath his unerring weapon. The fourth 
darted off into the woodland with Wetzel close upon 
his heels. He was a good runner and got safely away, 
while the man of the frontier returned for the scalp- 
locks of the three. He was back at Wheeling before 
tvv'o days were over. 



LEWIS WETZEL 113 

" What luck did you have, Lewis ? " asked a com- 
panion. 

" Not much," answered the man-of-the-woods. " I 
treed four of th' pesky varmints. But one slick-ez- 
lightnin' feller got away. He had er close call." 

At Marietta, Ohio, was a frontier fortification 
where a number of troops were stationed to protect 
the settlements from Shawnee invasion. Here Gen- 
eral Harmer summoned several tribes to meet him in 
conference, and here Lewis Wetzel and a scout called 
Dickerson ambushed themselves near the Indian en- 
campment with the intention of killing the first war- 
rior who might pass. Wetzel, you see, was a vindic- 
tive fellow and did not even fight in the open. 

The two assassins had not long to wait, for a red- 
skin soon came by on the gallop without show or 
sign of fear, because a flag of truce had been delivered 
to the whites but a short time before. As he passed, 
both men fired, and, although the warrior reeled in 
his saddle, he clung to the mane of his horse with a 
tenacious grip and rode on into the fort. Here he 
dropped exhausted to the ground, and, before dying, 
cried out : 

" My white brothers, I demand vengeance upon 
these hidden men who have driven me to the Great 
Spirit. You who have true hearts, see that I get 
what I desire, and my soul will then rest in peace." 

When news of this was brought to General Harmer, 
he said, with much heat: 

" Justice shall be done to this poor redskin. I hear 
from some of my men that Lewis Wetzel was respon- 



114 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

sible for this affair. Captain Kingsbury will therefore 
take his company and scour the woods for the rascal. 
Let him be brought to me, dead or alive." 

Wetzel, meanwhile, had returned to his home in the 
Mingo Bottom settlement and was engaged in a 
shooting match for a turkey. When the soldiers ar- 
rived, and the frontiersmen learned what they were 
after, they gathered around their comrade with the 
remark that : 

" Whoever touches Lewis Wetzel will have tew 
fight th' hull gang uv us." 

Captain Kingsbury therefore withdrew, but Lewis 
Wetzel was not careful to keep beyond the clutch of 
his arm. Some time afterwards he paddled down the 
river to an island opposite Harmer's Fort in order to 
spend the night with a friend, and news of his pres- 
ence was brought to the soldiers within the stockade. 
A company of men was soon headed for the island : 
the frontiersman w^as surrounded at midnight; was 
thrown into the guard-house, heavily ironed, and was 
not only deprived of open air, but also of exercise. 
He quickly sickened and grew pale. When told that 
he would shortly be hung, he sent for General Har- 
mer, and said : 

" General, I am not ashamed of my deed, for ever 
since the day that my people were brutally slain by 
the children of the forest, I have considered it per- 
fectly justifiable for me to do unto them what they 
have done unto me. If you will grant me one request, 
it is that you allow me to go loose among the savages 
armed only with a tomahawk. Then I will have one 



LEWIS WETZEL 115 

chance in a thousand to escape, but I will take that 
chance." 

The General shook his head. 

" The scaffold is the proper death for you," he re- 
plied. '" As an officer of the law I must see that you 
receive the fit punishment for your crimes. But, as 
I see that you are growing pale under strict confine- 
ment, I hereby order that the irons be taken from 
your legs. Your handcuffs must remain." 

The trapper bowed his head, but as soon as the 
General had gone and he was allowed to move in the 
open air, he frisked about like a young colt. A num- 
ber of soldiers guarded him closely, but as he walked 
and jumped around in front of them, he continually 
experimented with his handcuffs, in the endeavor to 
wrest his arms from their grip. Gradually he edged 
farther and farther from the guard. Finally he had 
moved to a position from which he felt that he could 
safely get away. With one mighty bound he had 
turned and was off into the forest. Volley after 
volley came from the soldiers, but he escaped un- 
touched. 

Wetzel knew well the woodland in which he found 
himself, and hastening to a dense thicket pushed 
through a close tangle of briars to a fallen tree. He 
wedged himself beneath this, and none too soon, for 
within a very few moments a number of Indians and 
soldiers approached. Twice some redskins sat upon 
the very tree beneath which he was crouching, and 
he heard one say : 

" Ah, but the white dog would make good running 



116 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

through the ranks of our red brothers. We must stick 
our knives into him when we find him." 

At last darkness came. The trapper heard his pur- 
suers returning, so he crept stealthily from his hiding- 
place and made for the river. He reached it in an 
hour, and by the light of the half moon, saw a fron- 
tiersman fishing from a canoe. He was afraid to call 
to him, for the woods were full of Indians, so he at- 
tracted his attention by beating upon the water with 
a stick. The fellow saw him; picked him up, and 
paddled him to the other shore, where his handcuffs 
were cut from his wrists. Next day he stood among 
his own friends. 

Not long after this remarkable escape the trapper 
was at a fort on Wheeling Creek from which a num- 
ber of pioneers had mysteriously disappeared. 

" They have been killed by the redskins," said one 
of the backwoodsmen, who resided there. *' How, 
where, and when, no one seems to know; but, my 
friend, there have been mysterious calls of turkeys in 
the woods. Turkeys, mark you, my friend, — wild 
turkeys ! " 

Wetzel pricked up his ears. He remembered that 
each of the men who had been killed had heard turkey 
calls near the fort : had gone out to shoot one for 
supper: and had never returned. The turkey calls 
had all come from one direction and here was a high 
hill covered with boulders. A small cave-like depres- 
sion could be seen from the camp. Putting two and 
two together, he decided that Mr. Redskin had pro- 
duced the call of Mr. Turkey and that it was Mr. 



I 



LEWIS WETZEL 117 

Redskin's unerring aim that had put an end to the 
Hves of so many good frontiersmen. " I shall soon 
stop the twaddle of the fascinating tongue of Mr. 
Gobbler," said the scout to himself. 

Setting out one morning, before day had broken, 
he soon drew near a hill, on the top of which was a 
small cave. It was an excellent spot in which to hide 
one's self, and, placing himself in ambush, he watched 
it narrowly. At sunrise he saw the tufted head of a 
Shawnee appear in the narrow opening, and the 
" gobble, gobble, gobble " of a turkey, sounded from 
the throat of the savage. The trapper bent low and 
watched the performance, for it was an exact imita- 
tion of the male bird. " Gobble, gobble, gobble," 
echoed again from the gloom of the cave, and, 
" crack " sounded the rifle of the bold pioneer. A 
wail of anguish arose from the cavern's mouth. Then 
all was still. The Shawnee gobbler had gone to the 
Happy Hunting Grounds. 

Well pleased with himself, Wetzel started back to 
the fort with the scalp-lock of the enterprising brave, 
and, as he neared the stockade, met a soldier hasten- 
ing towards him. 

" Did you hear that turkey call ? " said the enthu- 
siastic sportsman. " I'm going out to get him, sure." 

The scout pointed to his girdle. 

" There is Mr. Gobbler," said he. " He was the 
kind of a bird that shoots a rifle. My boy, you should 
thank your lucky stars that I saw him first." 

Not long after this event the frontiersman made a 
journey to the Kanawha River with John Madison, 



118 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

brother of James Madison, at one time President of 
the United States. They were busy surveying some 
land, and one day came to a hunter's cabin, which 
appeared to be deserted. 

" No one is here," said Madison. " Let us take 
some of this jerked venison and also a pailful of this 
coffee. I do not believe that the camp will be again 
visited, and we may as well have the food, as to let the 
wood-mice eat it." 

" All right," answered the trapper, and, without 
more ado, they appropriated what they wished, and 
continued upon their journey. 

Early the next day, as they were crossing a small 
valley, many shots rang out, and wild war-whoops 
sounded from every side. Cries of " You give back 
our venison ! " were heard above the din, and Madison 
reeled in his saddle, falling headlong to the ground. 
Wetzel did not wait to see what had happened to him, 
but, digging his heels into his horse's flanks, dashed 
off into the brush. 

Now was a furious chase. Although well mounted, 
the scout soon saw that the red men also had good 
ponies, and he feared that they would catch him. 
Over the mountain paths they flew, for hour after 
hour. At last they neared a broad river, and leaping 
his horse into it, the scout swam to the other side. 
The red men had not the courage to follow where he 
had led, and thus he made good his escape. 

The pioneer had a generous heart in spite of his 
vindictiveness to all savages, and not long afterwards 
had an opportunity to display his good feeling towards 



LEWIS WETZEL 119 

the weak and distressed. Going with a friend one 
day to pay a visit to a frontier house belonging to the 
Bryans, they found indications that the Indians had 
just been there, for the home was burned to the 
ground. Tracks in the moist earth led into the forest, 
and besides those of the redskins were the print of a 
woman's feet. 

" Miss Betsy Bryan has been carried off, I fear," 
said Wetzel sorrowfully, pointing to the footprints. 
" We must rescue her even if it costs us our lives. 
Comrade, let us hasten to the chase." 

His companion nodded, and, without more ado, the 
two men of the frontier followed the well-marked trail 
of the savages. Towards evening they crossed the 
Ohio River. Not far from the bank was a camp-fire, 
and, going towards it with great caution, they saw 
the girl seated near the flames. A white renegade 
and three Indians were her companions. 

" Lie down, comrade," whispered Wetzel to his 
friend. " I will tell you when to rouse yourself, for 
we cannot attack until these redskins are asleep." 

His companion obeyed, and waking him about two 
o'clock in the early morning, the scout told him to 
fire at one of the red men and then to rush into the 
camp in order to protect the captive. " I, myself, will 
attend to the renegade," said he. 

Both frontiersmen fired at about the same time. 
The renegade was done for, as was one Indian, also. 
The two remaining savages took to their heels. Wet- 
zel was after them in a jiffy, but, as they soon hid in 
the brush, he fired his rifle off, thinking that they 



120 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

might pursue him if they believed that his weapon 
were empty. He was not mistaken. The savages 
rushed from their hiding-places, gave close chase, and 
gained rapidly upon the running plainsman. They 
began to yelp wildly, as they thought that they had 
him cornered, but they did not know that this was the 
famous trapper who could load while on the run. 

Turning about, Wetzel now shot the nearest red 
man, but the other kept on after him like a flash. The 
scout loaded while darting forward, as usual, then 
wheeling quickly, he dispatched this second assailant. 
His wonderful ability to load when at full speed had 
made it thus possible for him to thoroughly avenge 
the assault upon the frontier settlement and the cap- 
ture of the inoffensive girl. Taking the scalp-locks 
of the two fallen braves and tying them to his girdle, 
he was soon back at the camp, where he was tearfully 
greeted by the rescued maiden. In a short time they 
were at home in the settlement. 

Wetzel continued his life of hardship and adventure 
after this; made a journey south, where he was im- 
prisoned at New Orleans, and, in 1803, joined Lewis 
and Clark in their expedition up the Missouri River. 
He left them after two months, and spent about two 
years near the headwaters of the Yellowstone, engaged 
in trapping and in hunting. From now on, until his 
death in 1818, he was a trapper and fur trader; his 
hatred for the redskins remaining unabated until his 
demise. He was camping near Natchez, Mississippi, 
when this occurred. 

A braver man never lived than this famous scout, 



LEWIS WETZEL 121 

who could load while on the run, and who had prob- 
ably experienced more hairbreadth escapes than most 
of the pioneers. His one great failing was his dislike 
for the red men and desire to put them out of the 
way, but, after one considers the distressing circum- 
stances attending the death of the members of his 
family, when he was a mere youth, one can pardon 
this bloodthirstiness. There was much good in Lewis 
Wetzel; the valorous frontiersman of the early days 
of the settlement of the United States. 



Q.(rVv/^* 



SAMUEL COLTER: 
AND HIS WONDERFUL RACE FOR LIFE 

WHEN Lewis and Clark were on their way 
to the Pacific coast they had with them two 
trappers, one of whom was to meet with 
extraordinary adventures. These were Samuel Colter 
and Lemuel Potts — both sturdy sons of the West — 
who obtained permission from the leaders of the ex- 
pedition to remain near the headwaters of the Mis- 
souri River, in order to hunt and to trap. They in- 
tended to overtake the main body, after a short time, 
and hoped to obtain enough beaver skins to net them 
a good sum of money upon their return to civilization. 
You probably remember that Lewis had trouble witli 
the Blackfeet, when near the Missouri, one of whom 
he had to kill because he began to run off the horses. 
For this reason these two trappers knew that they 
would have to use extreme caution or else they would 
fall into the dutches of some of these savages. The 
vengeance of an Indian is always swift and sure. 

Knowing that the redskins were all about them, the 
trappers decided upon the following plan : they would 
lie hidden during the day, would set their traps late 
in the evening, and would visit them in order to re- 
move the game in the gray of the early morning. 
Success met their efforts, and, before long, they had 

122 



SAMUEL COLTER 123 

a goodly quantity of skins. No Indians were seen, 
although Indian sign was abundant, and they knew 
that there were plenty of Blackfeet in the vicinity. 

One morning, while paddling up a winding stream 
where numerous traps were set, to their keen ears 
came the sound of heavy tramping. 

" Those are redskins," whispered Colter. " Let's 
decamp at once, and get back to our starting-place." 

But Potts thought differently. 

" Those are buffalo," said he. " Wait until we 
round the corner and you will find out that I am 
right." 

Just then they swirled around the bend in the 
stream, and to their dismay, found both banks fairly 
swarming with Blackfeet. Escape was impossible, 
and, although cold shivers began to run up and down 
his spine, Colter ran the bow of the canoe towards 
the bank. 

The red men began to whoop loudly, as they saw 
them approach, and called to them to come ashore. 
This they did, and, as they stepped upon the bank, a 
burly savage jumped forward and snatched the rifle 
which Potts carried, from his hand. Colter was a 
man of great physical strength and courage, who was 
not afraid of twenty savages. He wrested the weapon 
away from the redskin, handed it back to Potts, and 
confronted the startled braves with a face filled with 
determination and fire. Potts jumped into his canoe, 
pushed out into the stream, and started to paddle 
away, in spite of the commands of Colter, who cried 
to him to come back and take him with him. 



134 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

Suddenly an arrow whizzed from the bank and 
Potts cried out, " I'm wounded, Colter. I cannot 
come to your assistance." 

In spite of this, he raised his rifle, fired, and killed 
the redskin who had shot him. A wild yelping now 
arose from the other savages, and, before five min- 
utes had passed, the body of Potts fell into the water, 
riddled with hundreds of arrows. 

Colter stood upon the bank, unarmed and alone. 
The Blackfeet swarmed around him ; stripped him of 
his clothes and then held a pow-pow, while they deter- 
mined what they should do with him. 

" Let's skin him alive ! " said one. 

" No, whip him to death ! " suggested another. 

" Burn him at the stake ! " shouted a great many. 

The wrangling thus continued, until it was decided 
to let him run a race for his life. He was to get 
away if he could, but, if he could not, he was to be 
burned at the stake. All seemed to be much pleased 
at this decision. 

A chief now approached the captive and said : 
" Paleface, you run fast, eh? " 

" No, no, chief," answered the trapper, " I am very 
poor runner, I slow as the tortoise." 

This was an untruth, for Colter was one of the 
swiftest foot racers upon the border, but his reply was 
hailed with loud shouts. Led upon a sandy plain by 
the chief, he was followed by six hundred armed 
red men, who gave him a start of three hundred 
yards, and then told him to go. 

As Colter dashed away, a fierce whoop arose from 



SAMUEL COLTER 125 

all the red men and they started in pursuit with con- 
tinued yelping. In a few moments they saw that it 
would take their swiftest runners to overhaul the 
white man, for he sped along like a greyhound. They 
had, however, a great advantage over him, for his feet 
were naked, and there were prickly plants, sand bars, 
and sharp stones upon the plain. Their feet, on the 
other hand, were protected by stout deer-skin moc- 
casins. 

On, on, sped the gallant scout, although his feet 
were cruelly lacerated by the stones and shrubs. On, 
on, he went, while the shouting of the red men died 
away, as they perceived that he was out-distancing 
them. None caught up to him, in fact, he drew rap- 
idly away from the very swiftest of them all. 

After a run of three miles Colter glanced back 
over his shoulder and saw that one of his pursuers 
was holding. his own with him. He had headed 
towards the Jefferson Fork of the Missouri River, 
and knew that if he once reached the water he could 
doubtless hide himself. The pursuing red man had 
a spear in his hand, and, so fleet was he, that he was 
soon within a hundred yards of the trapper. 

" If I do not stop this Indian," said Colter to him- 
self, " it is all over with me." 

Straining every muscle in order to get away. Colter 
suddenly felt the blood gushing from his nose, and 
knew that a slight hemorrhage had been occasioned 
by his efforts. He was but a mile from the river, and, 
again looking back, saw the Indian within twenty 
yards of him. Escape was now impossible. Turning' 



126 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

swiftly around, — he stood absolutely still and opened 
his arms. 

The red man was astounded at this unexpected 
action, and, in endeavoring to check his headway, fell 
to the ground. The lance, meanwhile, flew from his 
hand and stuck into the earth a considerable distance 
from him, where it broke off. Luck was with the half- 
winded man of the plains, who now turned about, 
seized the broken spear-head, and darted swiftly to 
the side of the prostrate red man. 

The trapper aimed the sharp lance at the Indian, 
and drove it into him with such force that he was 
pinned to the earth. A deep groan came from the 
helpless brave, as the backwoodsman again turned to 
run towards the river, although he was now exhausted 
by loss of blood and by the terrible race for life. His 
pursuers were still far behind, and he reached Jeffer- 
son's Fork so far ahead of them that they could not 
see him. One spring — he had leaped into the water 
— and was swimming towards a little island about a 
hundred yards from the bank. 

Upon the edge of this had lodged a clump of sticks 
and floating brush. Colter made for it and dove be- 
neath the tangled mass; emerging somewhere in its 
centre, with his head between two giant logs. Breath- 
ing with great difficulty, and faint from his exhaust- 
ing run, he waited with throbbing heart for the red 
men to arrive. This they did very shortly. 

They had stopped beside the body of their comrade 
and found that he was in his death-agony. Infuriated 
by this, and with terrific yells, they again set out in 



SAMUEL COLTER 127 

pursuit of Colter, who heard their vindictive screech- 
ing as they reached the bank. Some of them swam 
out to the island and punched about in the drift with 
their spears. As they did so, the trapper drew down 
in the water so that only his nose was exposed. He 
remained thus for about half an hour, when the red- 
skins gave up their search and returned to the body 
of the fallen chieftain. Colter feared that they might 
set fire to the drift, but this idea did not seem to have 
entered the minds of the Blackfeet, who began a 
hideous wailing as they gathered around their leader. 
Carrying him upon their shoulders, they started back 
to their camp, and gradually their wild lamentations 
died away in the shadows of the forest. 

The trapper was in a desperate predicament, for he 
was without either clothes or rifle. His feet had been 
lacerated by the stones and plants so that he could 
walk only with difficulty, and his body was chilled 
by his long immersion in the cold waters of the 
river. Certainly there was no brilliant prospect before 
him, for he was miles from any settlement. Would 
you not think that he would have become abso- 
lutely disheartened and would have given up in 
despair? 

Not so with this bold follower of Lewis and Clark. 
After a day's rest and a meal of berries, grass and 
stalks from a shrub known as the sheep sorrel, he 
started for Lisa's Fort on the Yellowstone, a distance 
of a week's hard journey. Fortune favored this man 
of iron. Toads, frogs, and insects became his food, 
and with clothing of bark and reeds he finally reached 



128 FAJMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

the hospitable shelter of Manuel Lisa's trading station. 
He was scarcely recognizable. 

Colter had suffered untold agony from thirst, from 
hunger and from cold. The evenings are chilly in 
this country — even in summer — and, although he 
made a fire by rubbing two dry sticks together, he 
shivered all through the night. The wild sheep sorrel 
had given him most needed nourishment, while the 
body of a dead rabbit, which he fortunately stumbled 
upon, had brought sufficient strength to carry him to 
the Fort. No wonder that the trappers there gave 
three rousing cheers for this frontier hero. 

In ten days after his arrival at the group of log 
huts, Samuel Colter was again fit for service, but 
Lewis and Clark were already far away upon their 
transcontinental journey. He remained at the Fort, 
had several brushes with the Blackfeet, and eventu- 
ally found his way back to the settlements, where he 
was much admired for his nerve and courage in 
eluding the wild denizens of the plains near the head- 
waters of the Missouri. Certainly he had good reason 
to be proud of his escape from the bloodthirsty hands 
of the Blackfoot warriors. Three cheers for brave 
Sam Colter! He well deserves to be remembered as 
a Marathon runner who ran a more thrilling race than 
the tame affairs of the present day, where no band 
of savages, who are thirsting for one's gore, pursue 
the struggling athletes. 



MESHACK BROWNING: 

THE CELEBRATED BEAR HUNTER OF 
THE ALLEGHANIES 

IN 178 1 was born in Frederick County, Maryland, 
a pioneer who was truly entitled to the name of 
" The Mighty Hunter." The son of one of Gen- 
eral Braddock's soldiers, who had settled in this beau- 
tiful country, Meshack Browning lived his life in the 
wild fastnesses of the then uncleared mountains of 
the Blue Ridge, and, at the close of a long and event- 
ful career as a huntsman and trapper, could say with 
pride that he had killed from eighteen hundred to 
two thousand deer; from three to four hundred 
beaver ; about fifty panthers ; and scores of wolves 
and wildcats. He was the hero of every man's conver- 
sation in this mountain republic. All looked up to 
the hardy pioneer, and, after his long and eventful 
life was brought to a close, when well beyond eighty 
years of age, no one was more cordially missed than 
this sturdy old man of the mountains. 

Young Meshack's father died when he was an in- 
fant of but two weeks of age, leaving his mother 
desperately poor, with one daughter named Dorcas, 
and three sons. It was a hard struggle to bring them 
up, but by working in the garden, by raising plenty of 
vegetables, and by spinning, saving and knitting, the 

129 



130 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

good lady managed to scrape along somehow or other. 
Little Meshack had to learn how to use the rifle at 
an early age, for by this means only was it possible 
to supply the larder with fresh meat. Wild turkeys 
were abundant; deer, wildcats, wolves and bear 
roamed all through the rugged hills round about their 
home. Thus he quickly became expert in the use of 
the flintlock. 

The hunting season usually began in October, and 
during this month the task was commenced of laying 
in the winter's provisions. Some days little Meshack 
would go out with a kindly uncle who had joined 
the family and would hunt for deer. On other days 
he would chase after bees, and as he and his uncle 
were most successful in this kind of hunting, they 
would often spend more time in searching for honey 
than in seeking venison. It would not be long before 
the table would be well supplied with both deer steaks 
and honey. The high, fresh grass which surrounded 
the log cabin would cause their cows to give a quan- 
tity of milk, from which little Meshack's aunt, who 
was an industrious woman, made plenty of butter; 
and frequently a fat turkey would be added to the 
store. Thus life was simple, easy, and healthful in 
the wild fastnesses of the Blue Ridge. 

Things went on well enough until word came to 
the pioneers that General St. Clair's army had been 
defeated and cut to pieces by the redskins under Little 
Turtle, which you no doubt remember. This was 
frightful news, and little Meshack's mother was very 
much afraid. 



MESHACK BROWNING 131 

" What if the Indians fall upon us here," said she. 
*' We could not protect ourselves against these ter- 
rible red men. Let us move further back into the 
country where there are more white people. We can 
thus combine for our own defense." 

Meshack's uncle thought about the same way, so, 
packing up their few belongings, the little family hur- 
ried to a place called the " Blooming Rose," where 
there were thirty or forty other families. This was 
in 1792 — long, long ago, it seems — and yet I, my- 
self, have known old fellows of these mountains who 
appeared to be well conversant with the terrible battles 
of St. Clair, "Mad Anthony" Wayne, and the red- 
skins under Little Turtle. These many struggles had 
been often narrated to them by their parents; most of 
whom had taken part in those stirring events. 

Not long after coming to this settlement, the youth- 
ful Meshack had his first adventure with a bear. 
While milking a cow one day, he heard a great deal 
of noise at the house, and inquiring what it all meant, 
was told by one of the girls who lived there that a 
bear had just gone by. Running to the front portico 
he there found that four or five gentlemen, who had 
come to visit the owner of the house (bringing with 
them their bird-guns, and several little dogs), had 
gone in pursuit of the beast. The dogs were so small 
that two of them would have made about a mouthful 
for Brother Bruin. 

The owner of the house, Mr. Caldwell, was a suc- 
cessful bear hunter and had two fine dogs which were 
well trained to fight these animals. Meshack called 



132 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

them, took the old man's gun, and ran in the direction 
of the noise, until he overtook the party of huntsmen, 
who had halted just as the bear reached a clump of 
woods. The little dogs would not leave their master, 
for they seemed to be afraid that the bear would tear 
them to pieces. But as soon as Mr. Caldwell's animals 
scented the bear, off they went, heads down and tails 
up. Meshack followed on behind. 

On, on, coursed the dogs : on, on, went Meshack. 
Hastening towards the sounds of the fray, the young 
hunter saw both bear and dogs turning somersaults 
down a very steep hill. Over and over they rolled, 
Meshack after them as hard as he could tilt, and the 
way that the fur flew was most interesting. The fight 
became desperate, and the bear found that his hind- 
quarters were suffering severely; so severely, in fact, 
that he determined to climb a large tree. When half- 
way up to the lowest branches, he saw Meshack come 
puffing and blowing down the hill. This frightened 
him and he attempted to descend to the ground. 

As he crawled slowly towards the sod, Meshack let 
drive and sent a small rifle ball through the middle of 
his body. The bear plunged to the earth, making two 
or three somersaults as he did so, but finding the dogs 
too ferocious for him, he immediately ascended a large 
oak tree. The oak being forked and very high, he 
went up to the first branch, and, lying down on it, 
refused to move. By this time the gentlemen who 
owned the little dogs had come up, and as many of 
them had never seen a bear before, they began to con- 
sult among themselves about what was to be done. 



MESHACK BROWNING 133 

Meshack had no more balls for his little rifle and they 
had nothing but small shot. 

After a lengthy discussion it was agreed to try and 
see what a load of shot would do for Mr. Bruin. 
Meshack agreed that it was impossible to kill the bear 
with that and told the other huntsmen to let the beast 
alone until he fetched some more balls, or else secured 
some one else to come and shoot him. 

" Stand back and keep your counsel to yourself," 
cried one of the men. " We know how to handle this 
rascally bear. Let us finish him off! " 

Taking aim at the animal's head, one of them again 
fired, but this only made the bear snort, scratch his 
face, and climb up the tree as far as he could go. 
Here he seated himself upon another fork, and, al- 
though repeatedly shot at, would not budge. 

The bear hunters were feeling very much discour- 
aged. After a long parley they decided to send for 
a certain pioneer called John Martin, who could shoot 
a squirrel off the highest tree in the woods. A scout 
was dispatched for him, and, at about nine in the 
evening, he returned with the famous marksman, who 
brought a rifle shooting an ounce ball. After the 
trapper had had full time to recover his breath, which 
climbing the high hill had rendered rather short, he 
placed himself in a good position and let drive. Mr. 
Bear remained in his place unscathed. Several more 
shots were fired by the old fellow, but Bruin simply 
hugged the limb in apparent comfort. 

" Here, boys," cried one, " is a Mr. Morris — a 
Revolutionary officer — who has killed many an Eng- 



134 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Hsh soldier. Let him have a crack at this elusive 
mark!" 

" Yes ! Yes ! " called several. " Give some one 
else a chance." 

The new marksman cleaned and loaded his gun, 
took careful aim, and off went the musket. The bear 
snorted, groaned, and made a great fuss, but remained 
in its place. Another load was prepared and the Cap- 
tain again tried his luck, when the bear, apparently- 
provoked by such ill treatment, rose from his resting- 
place and started for the group. But upon arriving at 
the lowest fork of the tree, and seeing so many men 
and dogs, his courage failed him, and he again lay 
down. Mr. Martin tried two or three more shots 
without any result. Bruin seemed to be made of 
cast iron. 

" Let me have a shot at him," said Meshack, at 
this juncture, " I believe that I can kill the old boy." 

" Stand out of the way ! " cried the Revolutionary 
soldier. " I am sure that I can finish him off, and 
I'll knock you out if you interfere with me." 

It was getting dark by now, and Bruin was still 
unkilled. It soon was so dark that Mr. Martin could 
not see the powder in the pan. The gun missed fire. 

" Here, Mr. Martin," cried young Browning. 
" Give me your gun, and I will finish this confounded 
rascal," 

The old frontiersman passed him the piece. 

" Take it," said he, " and good riddance." 

Meshack felt for the powder in the pan and found 
it empty, but having some in a horn, he placed it 



MESHACK BROWNING 135 

carefully in the proper vent and was ready to try 
his luck. There were fourteen men now around the 
tree. 

The young pioneer could only see the bear by get- 
ting him between himself and the sky, but he took 
the best aim that he could, and fired. Pow ! Down 
came the bear this time with a thud; and, with a 
wild yelping and barking, the dogs made for him. A 
shout of horror arose from the bystanders as they all 
took to the trees, while over and over, down the steep 
hill, rolled the bear and the dogs, until they fell into 
a hole, where they stopped. A terrible snarling, yelp- 
ing and growling now ensued. 

The last shot had so disabled the bear that he lay 
upon his back defending himself valiantly as the dogs 
made for him. Meshack had now nothing to shoot 
him with, so he went in search of a club, and pulling a 
dry pole out by the roots, broke it off short, and went 
into the fray. 

Creeping behind the bear, as he was reaching after 
the dogs in front, he struck him on the head between 
the ears, while down he went, the dogs attacking his 
hindquarters, meanwhile, and holding on to him 
tightly. The tough, old fellow uttered one despairing 
growl, then rolled over, stone dead. His end had 
come. 

Meshack kept absolutely still, and, as he crouched 
near the bear, the back-track party began to come up. 
All had descended from their trees when they saw 
the bear rolling down the hill. 

"Where is Browning?" asked one. 



136 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" Goodness only knows," answered another. 

" I expect that the young fool has run on the bear 
and has been killed by him." 

" Hello, Browning! Hello! " cried many. 

Young Meshack would not answer. 

" It's no use to call," said one of the tree climbers. 
" He's as dead as a door nail." 

Still Meshack would not answer, because he wanted 
to hear what they would all say. 

"Hello! Browning!" was repeated. 

" What do you want? " at length cried the young 
pioneer. 

"Where is the bear?" 

" Here he is." 

"What is he doing?" 

" He is dead." 

" Well, I reckon that isn't true, because you couldn't 
kill him without a gun or a tomahawk, and you haven't 
got either of them." 

" I beat him to death with a club." 

" By George ! you are fool enough to do anything. 
We don't believe you." 

So saying, they gingerly began to come nearer and 
nearer, until they were at the edge of the hole where 
the bear lay dead. They would come no closer until 
young Meshack took the bear by the foot and shook 
it in the air. 

"By Jingo! he is dead!" said one. "Bully for 
you, my boy." 

The young pioneer now held up the club with which 
he had dispatched the bear, and each took it and 



MESHACK BROWNING 137 

struck the dead beast on the head in order to say 
that he had helped to kill the long-lived animal, but 
no one congratulated Meshack. In fact, several let 
it be known that they themselves had killed the tough, 
old fellow. 

The question now arose as to how Bruin was to be 
carried home. Some were for getting two oxen and 
a cart, but young Browning suggested that they carry 
him on a pole. This they did, and staggering and 
tumbling onward, the animal was gradually towed 
towards the house of Mr. Caldwell. The bear was 
laid in the kitchen, where the owner of the house came 
to view him and to taunt the back-trackers and the 
climbers for their cowardice. When closely examined, 
it was seen that Captain Morris's two shots had struck 
him, one passing through his ear, the other breaking 
two of his tusks, without doing any serious injury. 
No ball from Martin's numerous fusillades had 
touched him at all. 

" Your shot killed the bear, Browning," said he, 
turning to Meshack. "If the bear's backbone had 
not been weakened by the last shot he would have 
undoubtedly killed many, if not all of them. As for 
these fellows who climbed the trees, it was a most 
cowardly trick, and the same thing would have 
occurred had they been in a fight with the red- 
skins." 

This was very galling to the back-trackers, and they 
envied and abused young Meshack whenever they had 
an opportunity. When the bear was cut up they even 
did not wish to give Meshack a share of It, but Mr. 



138 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Caldwell insisted that he should have his just pro- 
portion of the game. 

" I have no use for the meat, sir," said the youthful 
pioneer. " But if you will give me the skin, I shall be 
glad to have it." 

Mr. Caldwell immediately took up the hide and 
presented it to him. 

" It is justly yours," said he, " for my dogs treed 
him, and you killed him. You have a right to the 
skin, because it has always been a rule among hunters 
that the first blood drawn takes the skin, be it bear 
or deer." 

Thus ended the young trapper's first bear fight. 
It raised his reputation as a fearless boy, and made 
him admired and respected by all the stout backwoods- 
men of the Blue Ridge. Frequently, thereafter, when 
he would be seated in the kitchen with the other chil- 
dren, they would induce him to tell the whole tale and 
would ridicule the back-track huntsmen for their cow- 
ardly conduct. One of them. Miss Nancy Lee, said 
to him one evening : 

" Browning, I always thought that you were a 
great coward, but I do not think so now. And I 
heard father tell a strange man the other day that if 
he had you in an Indian fight he knew that you would 
attack the redskins as fearlessly as you did that bear. 
Meshack, I have often wished that I had been born 
a boy, then I would be some day a man and would 
be able to kill or drive away the red rascals who fol- 
lowed General St. Clair, so that they would never 
again come back to murder the whites. If you had 



MESHACK BROWNINO 139 

seen as much of their work as I have, you would feel 
as vindictively towards them as I, myself, do. Let 
me tell you a story about them : 

" Some years ago, before General St. Clair lost so 
many men in a great fight with the Indians, father and 
mother were compelled to leave this place, and we 
all went up to the Fort at Wheeling, West Virginia. 
The neighbors were forced to vacate their farms, also, 
and go into the stockade. My father and three or 
four of his friends used to go out to hunt for game 
sometimes, and a few pioneers always stood guard 
while they were away. Others worked at planting 
and harvesting corn and at chopping wood. There 
was ever the danger of an onrush by the redskins. 

" At length news came to us that the Indians were 
in the neighborhood. The Fort was put in the best 
possible condition for defense, and we awaited their 
approach. But no attack came. Several days passed 
by, no sound came from the depths of the forest and 
it was supposed that the savages had given up the 
assault. But such was not the case. 

" One day two Indians made their appearance on 
the high hill above the town, across the river, and 
opposite the Fort. They fired their rifles at the stock- 
ade and then went slowly away, slapping their hands 
behind them in token of derision and contempt for 
the frontiersmen within the log enclosure. 

" Many of the pioneers were outraged by such an 
insult, for they were hot-tempered fellows. Several 
began to run after the savages, and they would have 
all gone had not the commanding officer stood in 



140 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

the gateway and stopped them. Twenty-four of the 
boldest and most dashing ran up the steep hill after 
the Indians, who kept on retreating as if with no 
intention to offer battle. When the whites reached 
the summit, they suddenly found themselves sur- 
rounded. Crack ! Crack ! sounded many a rifle, and 
bullets began to whizz by on every side. They gazed 
about them in dismay. Fully four hundred painted 
redskins were on three sides of them. Their only 
hope was to turn and make a break for the Fort. 

" The redskins, meanwhile, had moved to their rear, 
and, as the frontiersmen approached, put up a stern 
resistance to their assault. Many fell. Some escaped 
unhurt and dashed madly for their haven of refuge, 
pursued by the red men with wild, vindictive yelping. 
My father was one of the last to get through the 
lines, and, as he ran for his life, with a close friend of 
his before him, he saw his companion fall to the 
ground. As he passed him, the wounded man cried 
out, ' John, don't leave me to be scalped,' but my 
father ran on, as he knew that he could do nothing 
for him. A moment more and he saw a white rene- 
gade, who had gone to live with the Indians some 
years before. The fellow was close to him and car- 
ried a spear, mounted on a handle like that of a pitch- 
fork. He was at my father's heels when they ar- 
rived at a narrow defile in the hill next to the Fort. 
A large tree was lying on the ground and another small 
one was standing very near it. Something tripped up 
my father's feet, and in he fell, between the two trees. 
As he went down, the white renegade made a furious 



MESHACK BROWNING 141 

lunge at him. The spear, however, glanced off the 
log, turned its point upward, and stuck so fast in the 
standing tree that the white savage could not with- 
draw it before my father leaped to his feet, escaped 
unhurt, and reached the Fort in safety. 

" The poor fellow who had called out to him for 
help had had his thigh broken; but he crawled upon 
his hands and knees to a hollow log, in which he hid 
himself until dark, and then wriggled to the Fort. A 
short time later a frontiersman came in with his arm 
broken, but the rest all fell before the rifles, arrows 
and tomahawks of the redskins. 

" Thus perished twenty-one of the best and bravest 
men in West Virginia. Their death was a great loss 
to the frontier settlements, as also to the strength of 
the Fort, which, in a few days, was hotly besieged by 
these same red men. Their success had made them 
bold. Having intercepted a boat loaded with cannon- 
balls, destined for the use of the garrison, the savages 
procured a hollow tree, bound it round with as many 
chains as they could, drove wedges underneath the 
chains in order to tighten them as much as possible; 
loaded it like a cannon, and, at a favorable moment, 
let go a most tremendous broadside. Whang! The 
whole thing exploded with a resounding boom, killing 
several, wounding others, and frightening the rest 
half out of their wits. 

" They did not remain frightened, however, and 
soon renewed their attack upon the Fort. Near by 
was a log house belonging to Colonel Lane and the 
assault was mainly directed against this place, but the 



142 FAMOUS FRONTIEESMEN 

redskins were driven off. The powder became very- 
scarce in the house, so it was proposed that some men 
should run to the log barricade for a supply. Among 
the volunteers for this dangerous task was a sister of 
Colonel Lane, who said that she, herself, would go. 
It was objected to, and the young men insisted on 
going themselves. But she was firm in her purpose 
and replied that the loss of a woman would be felt 
less than the loss of a man. Pinning up her dress, so 
that her feet would have fair play, she started upon 
her dangerous mission. 

" The Indians were perfectly astonished at this 
sight and did not fire a single shot at her. Thus she 
reached the Fort in safety, secured plenty of powder, 
which she tied to a belt around her waist, and off 
she bounded again for the house. The red men were 
not so lenient this time. Suspecting some mischief, 
they fired a volley of balls after her, all of which 
missed the fleeing woman, so that she reached the 
house in safety, with plenty of powder with which 
to withstand the future attacks of the savages. 

" The Indians were now discouraged. Capturing 
a fat cow, they roasted her hind quarters, had a feast, 
and kept up a fusillade on the stockade while they 
ate the tender meat. When the repast was over, they 
all marched away in profound silence. As they dis- 
appeared, a settler at one of the port-holes drew a bead 
upon the last savage, but a random shot from some- 
where in the forest dropped him like a stone. A 
wild war-whoop echoed from the sombre woodland 
and the Indians had vanished." 



MESHACK BROWNING 143 

Thus ended the story of the attack. It was a thrill- 
ing tale, and Nancy concluded with the remark : 

" I think, Browning, that if the Indians were to 
commence hostilities again, while you were living 
with us, you would fight for our family, wouldn't 
you?" 

" Indeed," replied the young bear hunter, " no In- 
dian would ever put hands upon you while life and 
strength was left in my body sufficient to save you 
from their accursed hands." 

And he meant what he said. 

Not long afterwards the young frontiersman was 
married, and desiring some bear meat for the winter 
supply, started into the forest in order to secure a 
quantity of this article. He knew where there was 
a swamp of black haws (trees of which bears are very 
fond) and so he walked rapidly for the bottom where 
these grew. When in sight of the place, he went 
around it in order to let his dogs have wind of the 
thicket. He had two excellent hounds with him, the 
older of which was sent into the swamp in order to 
raise the game. In he went, and he was scarcely out 
of sight before a loud snapping, howling, and yelping 
came to the ears of the eager huntsman. 

The young dog was crouching at the heels of the 
trapper, but now he dashed into the thicket, also. 
Soon there was hard fighting going on. Meshack, 
himself, ran as fast as he could in the direction of the 
battle. When he came up with the dogs, the bear had 
taken to a tree, just out of their reach. He was a 
big, brown fellow ; very sleek and shiny. As he heard 



144 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

the trapper rushing through the bushes he let go his 
hold, dropped to the ground, and was in an immediate 
battle with the dogs. Browning ran the muzzle of 
his gun against him and fired, but the bullet struck 
too far back to seriously injure Brother Bruin. As 
the musket went off, the dogs closed in and the fight 
became most desperate. The bear was giving them 
more than they could stand. 

Meshack had dropped the gun in the weeds, and 
had no means of protecting his pets except by means 
of a large knife in his belt. It was now or never, 
for the bear had one of them on the ground and was 
biting him severely. In a few moments it would be 
all over with him. Therefore the trapper ran up to 
Brother Bruin and made a lunge at his side. The 
knife struck him far back, and did not cause a mortal 
wound. Still on he fought, though the blow released 
the dog, who arose and attacked the bear again with 
renewed energy, just as the beast attempted to crawl 
beneath a log which was raised from the ground. 
The young dog caught him by the nose as he went 
under, while the other seized him by his right hind 
leg. Both held fast, while Meshack ran upon him 
with his knife and dealt him two or three severe blows. 
Growling, snuffing, and breathing hard, the tough old 
Bruin rolled over dead. 

This was one of many such adventures. There 
were also encounters with wildcats, panthers, wolves, 
and other denizens of the woods. With deer, also, 
there were many strange happenings, as the following 
will prove: 



MESHACK BROWNING 145 

In February, 1800, the trapper and another young 
man, called Louis Van Sickle, went into the woods in 
order to catch a young deer, which Browning in- 
tended to raise as a pet. The Virginia red deer will 
become tame in two or three days, and even the oldest 
bucks will prove quite docile after a few weeks' con- 
finement. Several had been so tamed by the trapper 
that they would come to him, put their nose in his 
pocket, would take apples or moss out of it; would 
eat this food, and would then search in his pockets 
for more. 

The snow was about four feet deep as the two trap- 
pers went into the laurel swamps where the deer took 
winter refuge. As they drew near the edge of the 
swamp, they discovered many paths made by the ani- 
mals as they came out of the thicket in order to browse 
upon the small bushes and on the moss upon the fallen 
timber. They struck off, down one of the paths, and 
soon saw seven large deer running and jumping up 
and down in the deep snow. They pursued as best 
they could, for they had snow-shoes on underneath 
their moccasins, and soon Meshack was faf ahead of 
Van Sickle, who was unable to travel over the snow 
with any speed. 

When the trapper reached the hindmost deer, the 
foremost ones, being tired out, had stopped to take 
breath. The last one attempted to pass by those in 
front and leaped into the deep snow, where he stuck 
fast. Meshack caught hold of him with the intention 
of tying him, but he was too fat and strong and fought 
viciously. They were struggling together, when Louis 



146 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

came up with a long clasp-knife and cut the throat of 
the buck. With the knife in his pocket, Meshack now 
ran after the others, and soon overtook them as they 
were crossing a small branch, with steep banks upon 
either side. A large tree, which had fallen over the 
stream, lay a short distance from the ground, where 
many leaves had drifted under it. One of the bucks, 
being hard pushed and greatly frightened, darted 
among the leaves, and thus escaped the eyes of the 
trapper, who had his attention upon the deer in front. 
Meshack passed by, pursued the others for some dis- 
tance, caught a large buck, which he attempted to tie, 
but he fought him desperately, and was so strong that 
he could not handle him. 

While engaged with this buck he heard Louis cry- 
ing out from behind : 

" Hello ! Browning ! Come to my assistance ! 
Come quickly ! " 

Meshack left the buck and ran to the relief of his 
friend, thinking, as he did so, that he had probably 
fallen among the stones and had broken his leg, for 
the ground was rocky and full of holes. As he ran 
towards him, he said to himself : " If he has broken 
a leg, I will first take my ropes and will tie him to a 
tree, then I will pull it out straight, set the bone, and 
will tear up some clothes and wrap them around the 
limb, scrape a place clear of snow, build a good fire, 
and leave him here while I go for a horse and sled 
on which to carry him home." 

He was to be agreeably disappointed. As he came 
in sight of his friend, he observed him lying upon 



MESHACK BROWNING 147 

his back with his knees drawn up towards his face, 
and his large, wide snow-shoes turned up to the sun. 
Before him stood one of the largest bucks, with his tail 
spread, his hair bristled up, and his eyes glowing fire. 
He was carefully watching the prostrate trapper, and 
every time that he moved the buck would spring upon 
him and would beat him over the head and face with 
his feet until he became quiet again. The irate deer 
would wait until Louis would make another move, 
then he would again jump upon him. 

This was the same buck that had hidden underneath 
the log when Meshack had passed by. The animal had 
recovered his breath, and, as Van Sickle approached, 
sprang upon him suddenly. Striking the astonished 
trapper with his fore feet, he threw him backwards in 
the deep snow, and every time that the scout would 
attempt to arise, the deer would attack and strike at 
him until he would lie still. 

How often the buck had repeated this chastisement 
before Meshack came in sight is difficult to say. When 
the trapper saw his companion lying motionless, and 
hallooing vociferously for help, he could not sup- 
press a loud laugh. Van Sickle made several attempts 
to rise, but in vain; for the buck gave him a sound 
beating at every move. The prostrate woodsman 
was furious with rage. He cried out loudly: 

" You intend to let me freeze here in the snow. 
Browning? That is death, anyway, and I am going 
to get out of this fix, or else lose my life in the at- 
tempt. Can't you drive this cursed buck away?" 

As he ceased speaking, he made another move, and, 



148 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

as the buck sprang upon him again with his fore feet, 
he reached up, passed one arm around the animal's 
neck, and then the other. Drawing the deer close to 
him, he vigorously endeavored to upset his valiant 
opponent. Meshack continued his laughter, for it was 
certainly a novel wrestling match, and the buck 
seemed to have the trapper at his mercy. He deter- 
mined to let his friend fight it out to the bitter end, 
without any assistance on his part. 

The buck seemed to be weakening after fifteen 
minutes of struggling, and Louis now raised his legs 
and threw them over the animal's back. The snow- 
shoes were somewhat in the way, but he withdrew his 
rig'ht hand from the deer's neck, and, as he lay be- 
neath him, began to strike him in the ribs with his 
closed fist. 

" It's now your turn, you rascal," he called out. 
" You have had your innings, and it is nov/ my oppor- 
tunity. How do you like this — and this — and 
this?" 

Every time that he punched the buck the deer would 
grunt and endeavor to strike him with his fore feet. 

Meshack had stopped laughing by now, and walk- 
ing up to the fighting trapper, said : 

" Let go of the buck, Louis, and I will finish him 
with my hunting-knife." 

" No ! No ! " replied the woodsman. " I have a 
good hold on him now, and I refuse to let go until 
either he or I lose our lives." 

He continued to strike heavy blows upon the buck's 
side, as Meshack seized the animal by the ear. Now 



MESHACK BROWNING 149 

determined to end the affair, he quickly dispatched 
him with his hunting-knife, and, as he dropped to the 
snow, the prostrate trapper drew himself to his feet 
with a loud shout of satisfaction and delig^ht. 

" Meshack," said he, " you have saved my life ! If 
you had not come, I do not believe that I would have 
whipped this fellow, for he was the toughest customer 
that I ever tackled in my entire woodland experi- 
ence." 

Van Sickle was so upset by the beating which the 
buck had given him that he would never hunt any 
more unless Browning went in advance, and if a bush 
rattled, would jump back in deadly fear that another 
buck was coming after him. He was severely injured, 
having many black and blue lumps upon his head, and 
one very black eye. Two or three days later, he ex- 
hibited a long war-club, which he had made to defend 
himself with, as well as to attack the fighting bucks. 
It was eig'ht feet in length, with a large knot upon 
the upper end, and was a deadly means of defense. 
He would never venture to the woods again unless 
Meshack went along, and, as the trapper would not 
go with him, he had no opportunity of trying his 
murderous instrument. 

Shortly after this strange and novel battle in the 
woods, Meshack was asked by his wife to bring home 
some young turkeys for supper. Telling her that he 
could soon do this, he called his dog, Watch, and was 
off into the woodland. His faithful hound had been 
lame for more than a month from the bite of the last 
bear which he had tackled, and was still very stiff. 



150 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

He frisked about his master in spite of this, and 
seemed to be all ready for anything that might turn 
up. 

It was not long before the trapper saw three or 
four old turkeys with perhaps thirty or forty young 
ones. He sent Watch after them, in order to drive 
them towards him, but they flew into some low, white 
oak trees. When Meshack walked fast, as if he were 
going past them, they would sit still as they could for 
him to pass on. After taking twelve or fifteen steps 
the trapper would shoot off their heads. He thus 
kept on, until he had shot off the tops of nine young 
turkeys. This was sufficient for the larder, and whis- 
tling to his dog, he turned about for home. 

Watch, however, seemed to be very much excited, 
and kept whining and sniffing, as if some species of 
game were near. 

" What is it, my boy ? " asked his master. 

For answer the dog bounded away towards a large 
mass of rocks. Here he began to bark vociferously, 
so that the trapper felt sure that a bear was concealed 
near by. 

"Fetch him out, boy! Fetch him out! " he cried. 

Down went the dog, and into a crevice in the rocks, 
while Meshack raced to the other side. To his aston- 
ishment no bear came forth, but a huge panther 
bounded into the open, and, jumping from rock to 
rock, was soon out of sight. The dog followed along 
the rocks as best he could, and both quarry and pur- 
suer were soon lost to view. After a few moments, 
however, the dog opened again, and seemed to be 



MESHACK BROWNING 151 

coming back on the other side of the stones and laurel 
bushes, which here grew in profusion. 

Meshack turned to follow the dog. When he had 
gone a few steps he heard something moving, and 
wheeling about, saw the panther creeping close upon 
him. As he went behind some rocks Meshack levelled 
his rifle. When he came out the trapper fired, direct- 
ing the ball, as near as he could, to the heart of the 
ferocious beast. The gun cracked. The panther 
sprang into the air, snapping at the place where the 
ball struck him. Then, turning towards the trapper, 
he came on, put his paws on a small, fallen tree, and 
looked his adversary full in the face. 

Meshack drew his hunting-knife, and, as the pan- 
ther made a lunge at him, struck at him again and 
again. The sharp claws ripped the hunting-shirt of 
the bold pioneer and gashed his arms, but the fierce 
thrusts of the hardened woodsman soon made the 
beast cease his attack. He crawled into a leaning tree, 
where he sat for a moment glaring at the man in 
buckskin, and then came to the ground. In spite of 
the fact that he was bleeding profusely, he soon dis- 
appeared into a rocky cavern. 

The bold trapper has written : 

" I was really glad of it, for I found myself so 
nervous that I could scarcely load my rifle, and, when 
the panther was looking at me, I was determined that 
if he made an attempt to come near me, I would seek 
safety in flight. He would have been obliged to 
ascend a steep hill, and, as I had at least five steps the 
start of him, I do not think that he could have caught 



152 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

me. If any man would run at all, I think this would 
have been as good a cause as any he could have 
wished for. I know, furthermore, that I would not 
have been distanced in the race." 

In the meantime Watch returned. 

" Heigh on. Watch ! " cried the trapper. " Go 
seek him out ! Go seek him out ! " 

The dog was off in a jiffy, and descended to a large 
mass of rocks where he could be heard worrying the 
panther. The growling, snarling, and yelping soon 
ceased, so Meshack hastened towards the sound. He 
saw a den before him evidently in use for many years, 
and in the opening lay the beast, stone dead. Watch 
was licking his chops, as much as to say, " Now, 
what do you think of me, old boy? Didn't I do a 
good day's work, eh?" 

Meshack was delighted, for the panther was evi- 
dently an old stager. He was of tremendous size. 
Many a dead deer had been found in this particular 
part of the forest in years past, so it was evident that 
the beast had ranged the woods for a long time. 
After his death no more half-eaten deer were seen 
in the woods by the hunters and backwoodsmen, so 
it was plainly evident that the mighty panther had 
been the cause of all this loss. Certainly the trapper 
had had a dangerous encounter, and had had a nar- 
row escape from severe injuries. 

Meshack had heard of a great den of bears on 
Meadow Mountain, called the Big Gap, and on April 
4th, 1803, he started out to hunt them with a friend 
called Hugh. They were not long in reaching the 



MESHACK BROWNING 153 

ground where the bears had denned, or " holed," as 
the hunters called it. " It was," says the trapper, 
" the greatest place for bear holes I ever saw in my 
life. I really believe that at least twenty had laid in 
one acre of rock. They had all left their holes when 
we arrived, in order to go out after acorns, except an 
old female and her younglings, which were located 
in a deep place in the rocks." 

The dogs soon found this family of bears and at- 
tacked them, although the old one fought with great 
fury, while her cubs ran for their lives. As they 
passed by, Meshack shot at one and killed it, although 
Hugh missed the one at which he fired. The old 
bear had left her hole, meanwhile, and endeavored to 
follow after her young, but the dogs worried her to 
such an extent that she did not get out of sight of 
the hole before she was shot dead at the first fire. 
Two of the young ones escaped. 

The two trappers continued their hunt, and in the 
evening of the same day fell in with another old fe- 
male and two young bears. The dogs ran them all 
up the same tree, but the laurel was so thick that as 
soon as they shot the old one the young ones ran 
safely away, while the dogs were worrying the 
mother. The dogs soon finished the parent bear, and, 
setting off after the two young cubs, drew so close 
that they put up a tree. Running after them, the 
trappers were not long in dispatching the two fugi- 
tives. Thus, with two old bears, and three cubs, the 
huntsmen felt that they had done a good day's work. 
With great difficulty the booty was carried home by 



154 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

means of two horses, and enough meat was thus se- 
cured to last for the entire winter. Besides this, the 
hides of the young cubs made an excellent carpet for 
the cabin of the pioneers. 

Soon afterwards Meshack purchased some cattle, 
and, as there were scores of wolves about, on the 
same night that he took his stock to his home he 
missed one yearling, which he found had been killed 
by a wolf. This made him very angry. 

" Mr. Wolf shall pay me for my calf," said he, 
" and with interest." 

Taking a shoulder of the calf, he laid it in a steel 
trap and placed the bait in a running branch of water, 
taking care to hide it very securely. On the third 
morning after putting out this snare he went to the 
spot and found that the trap had disappeared. 

Rain had fallen during the night and every trace 
of the wolf's footprints was destroyed. Nothing 
daunted, Meshack returned home, called to both of 
his dogs, and endeavored to lay them on the trail. 
But they could not scent it on account of the great 
rain. 

The trapper knew that the wolf would go to the 
nearest laurel swamp, to do which he had to cross a 
creek. Into this the pioneer waded and walked down 
it for some distance. Finally he saw where the trap 
had struck the bank as the wolf was crossing the 
stream. Wading back to the dogs, he carried them 
to the other shore, and harked them on the track of 
the wolf. At first the trail was very indistinct, but 
as they went forward it became fresher and fresher. 



MESHACK BROWNING 155 

In about half an hour the dogs began to give 
tongue and soon were hot on the scent of the wary 
old fellow, who could not run very far because the 
trap was fast to his hind legs. Finally there was a 
terrible hullabaloo, and, running to the sound of the 
noise, Meshack saw that the wolf had taken to a 
hollow tree. His head was sticking out, and every 
time a dog approached, he bit at him and howled dis- 
mally. 

The dogs were not afraid of the beast, and kept 
springing at him. Every time a dog would come near 
enough the animal would snap viciously at him, and, 
if possible, would sink every tooth in that part of his 
body which he could reach. He was a terrible fellow, 
— black and shaggy. Meshack encouraged his pets 
to do all in their power, crying: 

" Hark on, boys ! Lay on to him ! Fetch the old 
varmint! Bite the old calf-killer. Hit him, boys! 
Hit him!" 

Finally the strongest dog took a deep hold on one 
of the wolf's ears, while the other seized the remain- 
ing one. The wolf came out of the tree in a second, 
but the now energetic attackers threw him to the 
ground. Again and again he endeavored to recover 
his feet, but they pulled him over and over. They 
were all growing exhausted. 

At this moment Meshack seized a club and took 
part in the battle. Again and again he beat the old 
fellow over the head. Again and again the dogs 
rolled him about. At length the fierce and ferocious 
beast gave a great, despairing kick, and it was all over. 



156 FAMOUS FRONTIEESMEN 

The trapper was delighted. Taking off the scalp 
and hide, he returned to his cabin, and subsequently 
sold both for nine dollars, — the price of two calves. 

" My good wife," said he, *' I told you that I would 
make Mr. Wolf pay me well, with interest, for his 
incursions upon my cattle. I have done it." 

And his wife answered : 

" Meshack, you are a man of your word — God 
bless you ! " 

One other adventure of this famous trapper of the 
Alleghanies is interesting, for he had another start- 
ling experience. This time he was accompanied by 
his good friend, Hugh, who was often his companion 
in bear and wolf hunting. 

Deciding to go after bear at the Big Gap, Hugh 
and Meshack went into camp within three miles of 
some rocks where many of these animals had previ- 
ously been seen in abundance. They arrived at the 
hunting-grounds quite early, having one of their best 
dogs along, a fellow who could handle almost any 
bear, whatever his size. The animal grew very lively 
when near some rocks, and soon ran into a hole, 
where his yelping was intermingled with loud growls, 
showing that some large animal was inside. Again 
and again the trappers called to their faithful hound, 
but he would not come out. There were three holes 
out of which Mr. Bear might come bounding forth 
at any moment. 

Meshack had given Hugh a bayonet, fixed on a 
handle like a pitchfork, with directions to run it 
through the bear if he rushed by him. He, himself, 



MESHACK BROWNING 157 

guarded the hole at which the animal was most likely 
to appear. The dog was making a terrific noise, as 
he struggled with the infuriated beast. The fight con- 
tinued for half an hour, at the end of which time 
Meshack espied a part of the bear, when peering 
through a small crack in the rock. Putting his mus- 
ket to the opening he fired. With a roar and rush 
the wounded beast dashed into the open. 

" Run your bayonet through him, Hugh ! " yelled 
the trapper. " Run your bayonet through him before 
he gets away ! " 

But Hugh was too timid to make the attempt. The 
enraged animal passed him with an evil snarl, and as 
he scampered to a tree Meshack vainly endeavored 
to ram another ball home in his rifle. The animal 
climbed slowly up to a limb and lay there growling 
evilly. 

" Now is your chance, Meshack ! " shouted Hugh. 
" Get after him! Give him a dose of lead! " 

The trapper approached in order to secure a bead 
upon his victim, and, standing beneath the tree, was 
just raising his rifle so as to take good aim, when, 
with a mighty rush. Bruin came at him, through the 
air. It was an unexpected attack, and quite out of 
the ordinary, so you can well imagine what must the 
feelings of the trapper have been, as the bear whirled 
above his head. Stepping aside, he fired at the brown 
mass just as it reached the ground. 

The fighting beast made a savage stroke at the trap- 
per's legs with his right paw, but Meshack was too 
quick for him and jumped swiftly aside. Again and 



158 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

again the monster endeavored to get a blow in upon 
the pioneer, but each time the trapper dodged. Just 
then his dog appeared, seized Bruin by the hind leg, 
causing the old fellow to turn about, and snap at his 
antagonist. This gave the trapper a chance to load, 
and, quickly ramming home another ball, he pointed 
his flintlock at the struggling beast, pulled the trigger, 
and planted a bullet in his body near the heart. With 
a savage growl of despair the bear dropped to the 
ground, where the faithful dog soon terminated his 
career. 

" Hugh, where were you all this time ? " asked the 
smiling Meshack. 

His companion approached; much abashed at the 
small part he had taken in the fray. 

" R-e-ally," said he, " I feared that my weapon was 
not sufficiently strong in order to dispatch this mon- 
ster. It might have bent, you know. Then, where 
would I have been ? " 

Meshack laughed loudly. 

" Well, I reckon, you would have been bent, too," 
said he. " For this fellow was surely a scrapper. 
Here, help me swing him on a pole and we will take 
him home for the winter's supply of food." 

This they did, and Bruin increased very materially 
the slender larder for the winter months, when snow 
covered the trackless forests and it was impossible 
to hunt, to jfish, or to secure venison or bear-meat in 
the deep and sombre woodland. 

The early settlers, you see, being but few in num- 
bers, had a hard time to maintain themselves ; if they 



MESHACK BROWNING 159 

had not been extremely economical they could not 
have lived in the wilderness at all. They fashioned 
their own clothes, they raised flax and wool, which 
the women spun and wove into linen and linsey for 
the men; and made flannel for their own wear. If 
any man wished to hire help there would be an under- 
standing beforehand as to what the wages were to 
be paid in. Sometimes pork, beef, honey, or corn 
was used as a substitute for money. Sometimes a 
calf, pig, deer-skin, bear-skin, coon-skin, or a wolf's 
scalp would suffice. The settlers all lived in cabins, 
and fed their children on bread, meat, butter, honey, 
and milk. Coffee and tea were almost out of the ques- 
tion. A few of the older ladies, who had been raised 
in other parts of the country, alone could use these 
staples of diet. Meat was plentiful, for, if the farmers 
could keep the wild animals away from their hogs, 
the nuts and acorns would make them very fat. Pork, 
beef, bear-meat, and venison were easily obtained. 
Wild meat was not thought very much of, because it 
was most plentiful at all times. 

Politics were little understood among the men in 
buckskin. Most of them were Federalists. An elec- 
tion was usually held on the first Monday in October, 
when all the settlers would gather at the polling 
booths, arrayed in hunting-shirt and moccasins, almost 
every one of them with a big knife stuck in his belt. 
A stranger would have thought this some military 
party going to war, and, if a quarrel occurred, the 
two contestants would rip ofif both coat and shirt, and 
fight until one or the other acknowledged that he was 



160 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

the beaten individual. Then their friends would take 
the bleeding combatants to the nearest stream and 
give them both a good w^ashing. This would usually 
end the quarrel. The people were generous to stran- 
gers travelling through the country, and if a way- 
farer lost his path a hunter would pilot him five, six, 
or even ten miles, until he was out of danger of being 
lost. They would refuse all compensation for their 
services. 

In such a community Meshack Browning continued 
his life, and, in spite of numerous hairbreadth escapes 
from wounded bears and panthers, successfully es- 
caped from any serious injuries, and he did not kill 
merely for the sake of killing. Honest and warm 
sentiments stirred his bosom, as the following story 
will show. 

One day he was following a large buck, which ran 
into a crevice in some high rocks and there lay down. 
The trapper hurried after him, and, mounting a large 
boulder, eagerly searched for a view of the cunning 
animal. He stood on the rock and looked about him 
with the utmost care, but could see nothing of the 
buck, until casting his eyes down at the base of the 
rock directly below where he stood, there lay the fine 
fellow contentedly chewing his cud, apparently con- 
sidering himself perfectly secure. He was watching 
the ground in front, not thinking that an enemy could 
approach on the side which the rocks so completely 
covered. Let me here quote the old trapper: 

" The rock being fully twenty feet high, I was 
obliged to shoot nearly straight down, but when I 



MESHACK BROWNING 161 

saw what a complete advantage I had, it greatly 
marred my pleasure to think that such a noble animal, 
possessing all the beauty bestowed by a pair of fine, 
large horns, a well formed body, and tapering limbs; 
whose life had been innocently spent (never having 
committed an injury against either man or beast) 
should be thus sacrified. My desire of killing him 
was so weakened, that I really had thought of letting 
him escape the death that was then hanging over him, 
but again it occurred to me that he was one of the 
creatures placed here for the use of man, that, if I 
let him go, probably the next hunter who caught him 
in his power would surely kill him, and that it would 
be as well for me to take him as to let any other per- 
son have him. 

" So, taking a good aim, I fired at this monarch of 
the forest, when the poor fellow gave a few jumps, 
and fell dead. I declare the death of that deer gave 
me more real pain than pleasure. He was a large, old 
fellow, his head and his face being quite gray with 
age. I took his skin and returned to my cabin, hav- 
ing the river to wade and at least a mile to travel 
before I could reach home. The winter being then 
near, I believe that the death of this buck ended the 
fall hunt." 

The seasoned trapper was not always accustomed 
to shoot bears. Sometimes he would trap them in 
large log traps, hewn out of the forest timber by 
means of the axe. To entice the animals into this 
box, he used to roast the leg of a deer, and, while the 
meat was cooking, he would rub honey over it, so 



162 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

that it would smell very strongly of the latter. Then 
he would cut off pieces of this sweetened meat, would 
tie them beneath his moccasins, would walk through 
the grounds which the bears frequented and would 
return to the trap. Every bear which smelled his 
tracks would follow the trail to the trap and would 
get caught in it. 

Shooting wolves was also varied by trapping 
wolves, and for this he used to take a carcass of a cow 
or a horse, and lay it in a small stream of water. 
Then he would go off some distance, so that the wolf 
could not see where, and would cut bushes. He would 
stick the ends in the mud so thickly that the wolf 
could get at the meat only in one place, which was 
left open and clear. The carcass was so laid that the 
wolf could eat at either side. 

A wolf will never jump over the bait, but will hunt 
the stream for a place to cross, in order to go around 
the other side, and eat. Therefore, the wise trapper 
would leave a passage for the animal to cross the 
water, and would set bushes about so thickly that they 
could not get through in any other place. The stream 
would then be widened where the wolves would pass, 
so that they could not step over it, and a flat stone 
be placed in the centre with green moss laid on top, 
so that it would look as if it had never been moved. 
Then meat would be cut into small pieces, and strewn 
on both sides of these crossing-places, both above and 
below the carcass. 

When a gang of wolves would come to the meat 
the larger ones would drive the smaller ones off. 



MESHACK BROWNING 163 

These would run about seeking food, and, soon find- 
ing the small pieces strewn about the crossing-places, 
they would run across, stepping upon the moss-covered 
stone as they did so. Every time they returned they 
would be sure to go over the place, setting their feet 
precisely in the same position on the stone. 

The trapper would carefully watch the marks of 
the presence of the wolves. When he found that they 
made tracks on the stone by wearing away the moss 
with their feet he would remove the stone and put a 
steel trap in its place, covering it over with green 
moss just as he had covered the stone. When the 
animals came back, in order to seek food, they would 
cross as before, place their feet in the trap, and would 
be securely caught. The old ones, being at the meat 
when a young one would be caught in the trap, would 
not be afraid to return, — as there was nothing to 
scare them. After a while, however, all would 
become afraid of the crossing-places. Then wise 
Meshack would place his trap in the mud where they 
would stand to eat the meat. But after one was 
caught in this place, all would desert, and trapping 
would be over with this particular gang of wolves. 

After capturing them in this manner for several 
years they became so cunning that they would not 
touch any bait which was offered them. The trapper 
therefore adopted another plan, which was as follows : 

He found that they would pick up any fragments 
of old bones that lay upon the ground, but if they lay 
in water, or close to it, they would not touch them. 
He therefore saved all the large bones from the table, 



164 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

particularly the joint ends of beef bones. He would 
beat them to pieces, mount his horse, so that his 
tracks would not be scented, and would scatter the 
stuff over a considerable area of land. Around this 
space he would then stick some bushes ; so that the 
wolves, in order to get at the mess, would have to 
pass through an opening in the brush. 

The wolves would soon find the bones and eat them 
up. Then they would be given a second meal. But, 
meanwhile, a trap would be placed at the opening of 
the bushes and would be stuck in a hole of its own 
size. All the extra dirt would be carried away. The 
trap would be pressed down an inch below the surface. 
Old leaves would then be laid over it, and it would 
also be covered with an inch of buckwheat bran, which 
would keep the wolves from smelling the iron. Then 
the skillful trapper would take some of the grass, 
which grew around the spot, and lay it carefully over 
the trap, so that no eye would discern the difference 
between that particular place and the surrounding 
earth. When this was done early in the morning, 
or before a shower of rain which would destroy all 
smell, a wolf would be always caught as he came up 
in search of the little bones. The pioneer was most 
successful in this method of defeating the cunning 
of the shy and treacherous animals, who were so de- 
structive to the live stock of the settlers that a con- 
siderable sum was paid for their scalps. 

That the wolves were fearless the following story 
will bear full witness: 

A friend of the trapper's called Mr. Calmes, was 



MESHACK BEOWNING 165 

travelling from Virginia to Kentucky with a number 
of others, at a time when the Indians were very 
troublesome. In passing through the wilderness they 
saw so many. trails of the red men that they were 
afraid to keep a fire burning at night for fear that 
the prowling savages might see their light and attack 
them by surprise. They would therefore let their 
wood burn until their supper was cooked, then they 
would smother the embers and lie down in the dark. 

One night they heard an animal moving around 
them, and seizing their guns, made ready to shoot it. 
But the animal, whatever it was, made off in the 
woodland. By its tracks they could see that it was 
a huge wolf. After the excitement had subsided they 
all lay down again to sleep, and one of them so 
stretched himself upon the ground that his head was 
exposed outside of the camp. When he was asleep 
the wolf returned, and, creeping upon him stealthily, 
bit him so severely about the head that he died before 
daybreak, without speaking a word to his anxious 
companions. Mr. Calmes often said that had this 
ferocious animal found a man in the woods by him- 
self, and if it was at a time when he was particularly 
hungry, he would have fallen upon him and would 
have killed him at once. He wound up this grewsome 
yarn with the sage advice to the trapper to kill all the 
wolves that he could. 

" Browning," said he, " your hunting is really a 
great service to this country, for, if you come upon 
one of these sneaking wolves, you must spare no pain 
to kill him. There is no knowing how many cattle, 



166 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

sheep, and hogs you will thus save to the inhabitants. 
I was going to tell you to be prepared for them, but 
I know that you understand the rascals and will take 
care of yourself. Whatever you do, do not let one 
of these bad fellows escape if you can help it." 

Meshack Browning did not do so. His long and 
active life was one of constant battling with the wild 
animals of the Blue Ridge, and at the close of his 
career all could justly say that nowhere had a more 
famous huntsman ever lived in the eastern portion 
of the then half-settled United States. Now little 
game is to be found where once deer, wolves, bears, 
and wild cats were plentiful, and, although sturdy 
and honest men still reside in the Alleghanies, seldom 
does one meet with a character like this bluff old 
trapper and pioneer. 



"BILL" BENT: 
HERO OF THE OLD SANTA Ffi TRAIL 

WHAT one of the plainsmen did not know 
"Bill" Bent; "Bill," the fellow who had 
battled so often with the Comanches, 
Kiowas, and other Indians that they called him " The 
Red Panther:" "Bill," who had killed innumerable 
braves in open conflict; and "Bill" who had often 
just escaped the scalping-knife by a mere hair's 
breadth ? The old fellow was a true plains' hero, and 
after you have heard some of the stories about his 
escapades with the redskins I'll warrant that you will 
agree that he was a marvellously lucky scout. 

In 1829 the brother of this fellow — Charles Bent 
— was upon an expedition to the mountains near 
Santa Fe, New Mexico. With him were numerous 
others, well armed and well mounted. It was lucky 
that this was the case, for every day a cloud of 
Comanches and Kiowas hung upon the flanks of the 
moving line of trappers and kept up a continuous and 
rapid fire. Every night the trappers slept upon their 
arms, certain that an assault would come before the 
dawn. Bill Bent was several miles away — at a little 
frontier post — and, hearing of the peril of his 
brother and his friends, determined to ride to the 
rescue. 

167 



168 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Old Bill rode a large black mule with split ears, 
which showed that he had once been owned by a 
Comanche brave. The Comanches soon sighted him, 
and about fifty of them made after him at full tilt. 
Arrows and bullets whistled about the head of the 
gallant scout, but he paid no more attention to these 
missiles than if they were flies. Occasionally he 
would turn in his saddle and drop some too eager 
buck whose zeal had outstripped discretion, and who 
had galloped within easy range of Bill's deadly 
Hawken rifle. 

" Here he comes, boys ! " shouted one of the band 
of plainsmen. " A brave fellow is after us, sure." 

Bent came dashing up and reached two plainsmen 
called Coates and Waldo, who fired at the pursuing 
redskins, bringing down three of the foremost. See- 
ing this, the other Comanches retreated and left the 
little band to plod on alone. A force of one hundred 
and twenty Mexicans joined the party shortly after- 
wards, in order to be protected by them against the 
overwhelming numbers of the redskins. 

The frontiersmen kept on their way across the lava 
dust and sage brush, but the Indians — although 
drawing off at a distance — still pursued. A famous 
scout called Ewing Young was travelling about twenty 
miles off, and from a fleeing Mexican heard that his 
brother trappers were sorely pressed. This particular 
scout was one of the bravest and most generous of 
men. As a trapper, hunter, and Indian fighter, he 
had few superiors. He had learned from a friendly 
redskin that the mountain canyon towards which the 



'' BILL " BENT 169 

scouts were journeying was occupied by two thousand 
warriors, who lay in ambush waiting to entrap and 
annihilate the whites. Gathering forty trusty men-of- 
the-plains around him he rode to warn the fleeing 
plainsmen of their danger. 

" By George, boys, there they are! " 

One of the advance trappers spoke thus, as — from 
a summit of a high hill — he saw below him the vast 
horde of redskins surrounding and following the re- 
treating scouts with whom Bill Bent was associated. 
The redskins set up a wild whooping as soon as they 
viewed the oncoming whites. " Crack ! crack I " the 
rifles began to spit and spatter at the advancing plains- 
men. 

The scouts were courageous, but the odds were too 
great even for such valor as theirs. Swarms of In- 
dians enveloped them, shouting: 

" Ki yi ! ki yi ! The palefaces will soon all be 
dead!" 

At this juncture young Kit Carson first showed the 
material that he was made of. Riding out in front, 
he swung himself under his horse, — and shooting at 
a redskin from below its neck, brought him to the 
ground. 

"Bully for you, Kit!" shouted Scout Young. 
" But these infernal redskins are too thick for me. I 
must break loose and retreat to Tavo." 

This the plainsman speedily did, and, although pur- 
sued for some distance, finally got safely away. At 
Tavo a crowd of trappers were assembled for their 
yearly rendezvous. Ninety-five of them joined 



170 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Young, crying : " To the rescue of Bill Bent ! To the 
fore! We'll clean up all the Comanches in the state! " 

" Hurrah, boys ! " shouted Young. " That's the 
kind of talk I like to hear. We'll get right after 
them." 

The Indians, meanwhile, still pursued Bill Bent and 
his party. 

The trappers under Young were not long in riding 
to the rescue of their comrades. As they came in 
sight the redskins gave whoops of disgust, for they 
saw that they were outnumbered and outclassed. 

" Back to the woods ! " shouted young Kit Carson, 
as he galloped his steed in the direction of the braves. 
" Back to the plains, for we'll get you now 1 " 

As the party came on, Bill Bent's followers set up 
a wild whooping. "We're saved!" cried several. 
" Old Scout Young, we knew, would not let us be 
annihilated." 

The Indians now became dispirited. Seeing the 
reinforcements coming up in battle array they quickly 
retired, chanting a death song, for they had lost fully 
fifty men in killed and wounded. 

Bill Bent's followers were now free, and Bill, him- 
self, was overjoyed to have saved his scalp. But he 
soon came near losing it again. 

In the winter of 1 830-1 831, the tried and seasoned 
trapper, together with Robert Isaacs and a comrade 
whose name is unknown, made his way to Arizona, 
on a trapping expedition. For a time they met with 
fair success and saw nothing of the redskins. But 
one day they were surrounded by a body of Mescalero 



*'BILL" BENT 171 

Apaches, who were the fiercest of the savage tribes 
upon the frontier. The Indians were one hundred and 
fifty strong. There were but three trappers. What 
chance had they, you ask. They had no hope of free- 
dom, but, as Bill Bent expressed it : " We will sell 
our lives as dearly as possible and we will make as 
many redskins go under as we can before we, our- 
selves, will give up ! " 

The trappers threw up a rude stone breast-work 
when first surrounded. They were working hard on 
this, when, with terrific whoops, the Apaches were 
after them on the charge. 

" Go easy, boys ! " shouted Bill Bent. " Make every 
shot count ! " 

Two of the trappers fired as he spoke and two of 
the chiefs fell to the sod. Before they could get out 
of range the third man shot off his rifle, and another 
one of the braves dropped to the ground. The 
Apaches were not disconcerted and again returned to 
the charge, but they were met by the deadly fire of the 
reloaded rifles and the pistols of the trappers, also. 

" Ugh ! Ugh ! " said they, " we've had enough ! 
We must go back ! " 

Conducting the siege now at long range, the 
Apaches kept up a desultory fire for two days. Then 
they retired in disgust, for they could not dislodge the 
trappers. 

" Hurrah ! " cried Bill Bent, as he saw them going 
away. " Boys, we can now get some water ! " 

The scouts, in fact, were nearly dead with thirst, 
but they soon found a spring and refreshed themselves. 



172 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Leaving Arizona soon afterwards, they avoided any 
further trouble with the terrible Apaches, who, re- 
membering the drubbing which they had received, 
were glad to allow them to retreat unmolested. 

The old Santa Fe trail in New Mexico was much 
used by emigrants at this time and was well watched 
by the redskins. Should a train be slightly guarded 
it would be unsafe for men, women and children, for 
the Indians would make short work of them. This 
deterred all except the boldest spirits from venturing 
where was certain peril and probable death. But 
among the heroes who were still willing to encounter 
the fearful odds of Indian combat were to be found 
Bill Bent, his brother Charles, the Waldos, and a few 
others whom no danger ever daunted, and who saw 
a splendid field for trade in this country. In 1839 a 
party of these men applied to Andrew Jackson, who 
had just taken his seat as President. They asked 
for a military escort to accompany them to the Ar- 
kansas River, which — at that time — formed the 
boundary between Mexico and the United States. 

This request was speedily granted, and Major Ben- 
nett Riley was detailed, with two hundred men, to 
meet the emigrants at Fort Leavenworth and to ac- 
company them to the Arkansas River. The traders 
met at Round Grove, Missouri, where Charles Bent 
was chosen Captain and where Bill Bent also joined. 
With thirty-six wagons, fully freighted with valuable 
goods, they set out for Santa Fe, New Mexico. 

In due time they reached the Arkansas River at 
Chateau's Island, and here the traders bade farewell 



"BILL" BENT 173 

to the gallant Major and his brave soldiers. Plunging 
into the shallow waters of the stream they were soon 
on Mexican soil. But their troubles now commenced. 
The dry sand engulfed their wagon wheels almost to 
the hubs, stalling the teams, and utterly preventing 
an orderly march. 

" Close up ! Close up ! " Bill Bent kept shouting. 

But in spite of these orders, the wagons were soon 
strung over a half a mile of road. Advance and rear 
detachments had been thrown out to guard against 
surprise, but either through the negligence of the 
videttes, or from the completeness with which the 
Indians had concealed themselves, they had only gone 
nine miles when the savages seemed to spring out of 
the very bowels of the earth. Their rifles spat a 
deadly fire. 

" My stars, look at the redskins ! " cried Bill Bent. 
" They're after us, for sure, this time ! " 

The surprise had been complete, but Charles Bent 
— mounted upon a large, black horse — with his long, 
dark hair floating upon the wand, dashed up and down 
the line, fonning his men. Every ravine swarmed 
with the redskins, and, although they yelled fiercely, 
above their loud calls could be heard the voice of 
Charles Bent. 

" Close up, men ! Close up ! " he kept shouting. 
" It's our only chance ! And keep cool ! Keep cool ! " 

Two of the men had been lagging in the rear of the 
train, and, at the first fire, one fell dead, while the 
other — with fifty Indians in pursuit — dashed for 
the wagons. Escape seemed to be impossible, but 



174 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Bent saw the situation at a glance and charged 
towards the advancing savages with twenty scouts. 
The Indians drew off at this show of force, and 
the fleeing trapper was thus able to join his com- 
rades. 

Crash! Crash! sounded the rifles, and the battle 
continued to rage with fury. Nothing but Bent's 
coolness and the desperate bravery of his men pre- 
vented a charge by the red men, who numbered at 
least a thousand. Luckily a small, brass cannon was 
in the train — the first that ever crossed the Arkansas 
— and, as it spat its fire, the Comanches withdrew. 

The trappers now dug rifle-pits, but Bent soon saw 
that without water his men would be unable to hold 
their own. 

" Who will creep through the hostile redskins and 
go after Major Riley and his men ? " he asked. " Un- 
less we get his aid we will have to give in to these 
frightfully bloodthirsty savages ! " 

" I will go ! I will go ! " came from the throats of 
many. In fact all seemed to wish to undertake the 
hazardous journey. 

Captain Bent could not help laughing. Nine were 
finally selected for the trip. They knew that their 
only salvation lay in their rifles, for their mules were 
so worn down by fatigue that flight was out of the 
question. 

They rode out expecting to have a tough time of it, 
but the redskins allowed them to pass through their 
lines without firing a single shot at them. Spurring 
on their broken-down beasts they hastened towards 



'*BILL" BENT 175 

the Arkansas River, where they still hoped to find 
Major Riley with his troops. 

The Major was surely there. He saw them coming 
away off on the plains, and, striking his tents, was 
all prepared to meet them when they arrived. 

" Gentlemen," said he, when he heard their story, 
" it is a breach of national etiquette for me to cross 
the boundary line into Mexico — a friendly power — 
but blood is thicker than water, and I cannot see my 
countrymen suffer. I will be with you as soon as my 
troops can pack up." 

The soldiers were soon on their way. So rapid and 
silent was the approach of the force that they even 
penetrated between the pickets of the traders and their 
camp before they were discovered. Cheer after cheer 
welled from the throats of the beleaguered plainsmen, 
as they approached. The savages heard them, and, 
seeing that they now would have to assume the de- 
fensive, quietly slipped away. 

" Ow ! Ow ! " said one brave. " We get those 
palefaces yet." 

Much overjoyed. Bent and his traders again started 
on their journey, turning their course from Santa Fe, 
which point they at first intended to reach, to Taos, 
some eighty miles further to the North. By this 
detour they not only avoided many canyons, in which 
were sure to be lurking savages, but were also able 
to obtain a military escort of Mexicans. A General 
Viscarro — with a goodly number of Mexican ran- 
cheros — accompanied them. But there was still to 
be trouble. 



176 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

They reached the rippling courses of the river Ci- 
marron. There a party of savages approached the 
Mexicans, who rode on in front. One of them bore 
an arrow tied transversely across a spear, it being the 
symbol of the cross. Viscarro was a Catholic, and, 
honoring this novel flag with true devotion, he was 
spoken to by one of the braves. 

" If the Americans will move aside to some dis- 
tance," said he, " we will lay down our arms and will 
surrender." 

Viscarro smiled. 

" Certainly, red brother," said he. 

The Americans retired beyond a ridge, and no 
sooner were they out of the way than the treacherous 
savages poured a destructive fire into the Mexican 
ranks. Many men and officers were wounded. But 
luckily the two Bents heard the firing, and suspecting 
treachery, gathered a number of mounted soldiers and 
went to the relief of the men who lived south of the 
Rio Grande. 

Now was a desperate affair. Bent and hia men burst 
upon the savages with fierce cries and delivered a 
deadly volley right in their faces. Their rifles were 
then discarded, and, having next emptied their pistols, 
they followed up the attack with tomahawks and 
clubbed rifles. Soon the Comanches were in full flight 
and the field was strewn thickly with their dead and 
wounded. 

A gallant action was performed by a Pueblo (or 
Village) Indian. He was near the Mexican General, 
ViscarrO; and understanding the language of th^ hos- 



"BILL" BENT 177 

tiles, heard one of the latter exclaim in his native 
tongue : " Now for the General ! " As he spoke he 
aimed a bullet at the body of the Mexican commander. 
The Indian threw himself in front of him — at this 
juncture — and fell to the ground ; as noble a hero 
as the lists of chivalry tell of. Viscarro was much 
affected by this show of devotion. 

Thanks to Bill Bent and his brother Charles, the 
caravan had been saved from the hostiles. It was 
well. From this time on nothing exciting occurred 
and the Americans and Mexicans reached their re- 
spective homes in safety, meeting with no more seri- 
ous annoyance than the nightly serenade of coyotes. 
The disheartened Comanches had given up their at- 
tempt to crush out the travel along the Arkansas trail, 
and fortunately for the white traders entered into no 
more military combinations, — preferring the safer 
and more natural warfare of the small, predatory 
bands. They could then move quickly and could cut 
off small unguarded bodies of men. 

Bill Bent had done wejl. Now he did even better, 
for a fort was named after him. This was situated 
on the Arkansas River ; was first called Fort William, 
and was the property of Lieutenant Vrain and him- 
self. Built in 1833, here the celebrated Kit Carson 
was the post hunter from 1834 to 1842. Could the 
walls of the old fort speak, they would tell many tales 
of thrilling battles with the red men. 

On one occasion it was besieged by many thousands 
of plains Indians. All of the tribes had determined 
to lay aside their mutual dislike for one another for 



178 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

once, and to league together for the extermination of 
the "palefaces." They saw that the white traders 
would soon have all of this country and they did not 
like the idea. Bill Bent was approaching the fort with 
a wagon-train about this time. Knowing that two or 
three hundred raw recruits of the United States gar- 
rison formed its only defense, he hastened rapidly to 
its relief. On his way he met several deserters, who 
(in the night) had scaled the walls of what they re- 
garded to be a place of doom, and stealing cautiously 
through the savage lines, had fled with all speed 
towards the rising sun, — for they knew that help was 
there. 

Bill Bent was somewhat alarmed at this. When 
he arrived in sight of the fort he saw that it was men- 
aced by a great and awful danger. There were thou- 
sands of hostile Indians dancing their war and scalp 
dances around it, and endeavoring to work themselves 
up to the proper frenzy in order to make the attack. 
Bent's blood began to boil. 

"Here!" he cried to one of his best men, "you 
take charge of the train ! I have to move forward ! " 

His hat came off as he rode on, but he galloped 
straight at the fort. His long hair — meanwhile — 
trailed out behind like a banner from its stafif. It was 
a trophy which any of the savages would have been 
very proud to wear in his belt. 

The Indians were too surprised to fire at him. As 
he dashed along, he uttered a fierce war-whoop, and 
fired his revolver at a savage who was unwise enough 
to approach. Behind him came thundering his friend 



*'BILL'' BENT 179 

and ally, — Yellow Bear. He was a great Apache 
chief, but a friend of the whites and their staunch sup- 
porter. Strung out in the rear were a few Apache 
braves, who would have cheerfully sacrificed their 
lives for either Bent or Yellow Bear. 

Bill Bent reached the fort in safety. So did Yellow 
Bear and his braves. The wagon-train came steadily 
on, its men marching alongside, fully armed. It, too, 
reached the doorway of the fort without a mishap. 
Here the pioneers found Bent getting everything in 
proper shape to give a warm reception to the braves, 
who from their actions were apparently ready for 
the assault. They were met with a hot recep- 
tion. 

Now an unforeseen event occurred. 

Upon the morning after Bent's arrival the lookout 
beheld a slight cloud of dust far to the Eastward. 
After a while, a few black specks could be seen. They 
came nearer and were seen to be Indian videttes with 
their ponies on a dead run. 

The videttes dashed into the Indian encampment, 
said a few hasty words to some of the chiefs, and 
then consternation seemed to take possession of the 
redskins. The squaws began at once to take down the 
lodges. The travois poles were slung with the tents 
and equipment. Soon the entire Indian camp was in 
full retreat. Amidst the yelping of the dogs, squalling 
of the babies, the rattle of pots and kettles piled up 
on the travois, and the insulting yells of the warriors, 
the savage host of besiegers crossed the Arkansas 
River and disappeared from view. 



180 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

"Why, now," said Bill Bent. "Boys! Seems 
they're afraid of vis! " 

But the mystery was soon explained. Late on the 
evening of the next day those in the fort beheld the 
approach of a regiment of United States cavalry, 
which had been sent to its relief. The redskins had 
an admirable picket system. By means of this their 
pony express had told them of the approach of the 
cavalry, and, fearing that vengeance might be taken 
upon them for their hostile attitude and war-like 
threats, they prudently decamped. 

Bill Bent had many another adventure upon the 
plains which was as thrilling as this. He was known 
for his courage and was never badly wounded, al- 
though he took a thousand chances. Sad to relate, 
he married a Cheyenne wife, and his children — suf- 
fering from this taint of redskin blood — never at- 
tained the prominence upon the plains which their 
fond parent had held. At last the good old fellow 
passed to the Happy Hunting Grounds. He had 
indeed seen the wild and woolly West in its palmiest 
days. Good-by to old Bill, hardy frontiersman and 
scout, whose reputation was spotless! Good-by and 
good luck. Bill Bent! 



THOMAS EDDIE: 

THE LAST OF THE OLD SCHOOL 
TRAPPERS 

YOU will do, boy, I will need you ! " 
The man who spoke — a grizzled old 
plainsman — nodded to a strong-looking 
young Scotchman who was standing before him, rifle 
in hand, and motioned to him to take a position among 
a number of trappers who stood near by. The fellow 
who thus spoke was John Ashley (a famous trader 
and explorer) who had just organized the Rocky 
Mountain Fur Company. As he was in need of vig- 
orous young men his heart naturally warmed towards 
the stalwart youth before him, who was yearning for 
adventure in the Far West. 

This athletic frontiersman was none other than 
Thomas Eddie, who was now twenty-four years of 
age, and whose aim with the rifle was steady and sure. 
Born on August 29th, 1799, he had naturally drifted 
to the plains, where he was as quick to volunteer upon 
a dangerous mission as were " Old Bill " Williams, 
Bill Gordon, or any of the other valiant pioneers. 
He was a fellow of iron will, and the older members 
of this expedition soon found that the canny young 
Scot would do and dare as much as any of them. As 
ready and willing to go to the relief of a stricken com- 

181 



182 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

rade as the most experienced man on the plains, he 
had not an enemy on the border, except among the 
redskins, whose hand was against every white man. 
As wiry as steel, as keen as a sword blade : such was 
the youthful Thomas Eddie, soon to be the hero of 
many a startling adventure. 

The trappers under Ashley made their way up the 
waters of the Missouri in keel-boats. The muddy 
current of the turbid stream raged furiously against 
them, but by vigorous rowing they managed to thread 
their way among the numerous snags and sand-bars. 
At length they reached the vicinity of an Arickara 
village, filled with several hundred savages, and here 
they intended to trade, before passing up the Yellow- 
stone River, where was splendid trapping. They 
rowed on with confidence, little suspecting that the 
redskins were in a terrible state of agitation and anger 
against all of the white men of the West. In fact, 
not many weeks before, an adventurous trapper, who 
had been travelling near by, had caught the son of the 
head chief of this nation, as he was stealing his horse. 
He had shot him down as he was in the act of throw- ■ 
ing his leg over his mount. The Arickaras had soon 
heard of this, and, in spite of the fact that the white 
man had been perfectly justified in killing the horse- 
thief, determined to avenge the death of their comrade. 

Ashley and his companions did not know of this 
adventure. Therefore they rowed onward with con- 
fidence, and soon sighted the tepees of the red men 
on the right bank of the stream. 

" There they are ! " cried Eddie, who was in the 



THOMAS EDDIE 183 

bow of one of the boats. " We will have good trade, 
for I know that they are greatly in need of arms and 
of ammunition." 

" Look out for them ! " spoke a fellow named Rose, 
in one of the other vessels. " From certain signs I 
know that the red vermin mean mischief." 

This fellow was a Kentuckian who, for some mis- 
demeanor, had been outlawed in his own state and had 
then lived among the Crow Indians, who had made 
him a chief. Ashley did not like him and believed 
him to be a villain. Eddie, however, knew that he 
spoke with keen knowledge of the redskins. He, 
therefore, turned around and cried loudly : 

" Ashley, look out for the Indians ! They mean 
mischief! " 

To this, the head of the expedition paid not the 
slightest attention. Instead, he pushed forward, an- 
chored his boat close in shore, near a long strip of 
small Cottonwood trees, and pulled out his pipe, smo- 
king it complacently. 

" Be ready for an ambush," said Rose, " I know 
that the Arickaras are in an ugly mood." 

" Oh, pshaw ! " answered Ashley. " The red men 
are over anxious to trade. It has been ten years since 
they have been on the war-path against the whites 
and I know that they will treat us well. Why, man, 
these Indians love me like a brother." 

Rose frowned. 

" I have lived among these redskins for many 
moons," said he. " And I know them like a book. 
Look out. They mean trouble ! " 



184 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Ashley again pooh-poohed the idea, and rowed to 
the bank, where he deposited his articles of trade upon 
several gaudy blankets. The Arickaras crowded 
around him, crying: 

" Oh, palefaced brother, you have brought us fine 
things. Oh, good brother ! Oh, kind brother ! " 

They showed feverish anxiety to obtain guns and 
ammunition, saying that they were soon going against 
their old enemies, the Sioux. The trade went on, 
many of the trappers coming ashore in order to bet- 
ter bargain with the redskins; a few, however, re- 
maining in the boats. Ashley seemed to be well sat- 
isfied with the manner in which everything was going. 
He suspected nothing until one of his men came to 
him and whispered in his ear: 

" Three of our trappers have secretly disappeared, 
and I fear that they have been murdered." 

The leader of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company 
was at last alarmed. He made preparations for de- 
fense and gathered his men about him in a hollow 
square. But the Indians, finding that they no longer 
could conceal their enmity, now set up a loud whoop- 
ing and yelling. A shot was fired. Another and 
another followed in quick succession, and the cotton- 
wood thickets swarmed with the savages, who poured 
a rain of bullets at the trappers upon the bank and 
upon those in the boats. 

" Drop to the ground, boys ! " shouted Ashley, " and 
we will fight for our lives." 

A desperate encounter ensued. Although sur- 
rounded in the rear, the trappers fought their way to 



THOMAS EDDIE 185 

the bank, jumped into the river, and attempted to 
swim to their boats. Many were drowned, others 
were killed by bullets as they splashed towards their 
craft, but the majority clambered aboard in safety. 

" Cut the ropes," shouted Ashley, " and get away 
from here as quickly as you are able ! " 

Under a terrific fire the boats began to slowly drift 
down the river. Oars were soon run out and the 
trappers were well beyond range of the murderous 
Arickara rifles. Of one hundred and forty-nine men 
they had lost sixty killed and drowned, and scarcely 
one of them did not bear marks of bullet or arrow 
wounds. It had been a desperate affair. Had the 
confident Ashley but listened to the sage advice of 
the Crow renegade there would have been no such 
slaughter. Thus ended the famous stampede of the 
Rocky Mountain Fur Company, on the ninth day of 
March, 1828. 

But how about the stalwart young Eddie? This 
lucky plainsman escaped with only one arrow wound 
in his forearm. He was heroic in the defense of the 
boats, and, taking charge of one of them, managed 
to get her safely to Council Bluffs, where the Fur 
Company retreated in good order. Poor, old trap- 
pers! They had met with a warmer reception than 
they had bargained for! 

As luck would have it, a Colonel Leavenworth was 
then at Council Bluffs with a detachment of United 
States troopers. Ashley soon told him his story, and 
wound up his sad tale with the request that he help 
him to chastise the savages. 



186 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" That I will do right willingly," answered the gal- 
lant soldier. " White Bear, with his band of Sioux 
warriors, will go with me, I know. He says that he 
is just itching for a little brush with the Arickaras. 
He will be of great assistance to us." 

Eddie joined the detachment as it departed, and, 
marching speedily towards the village, the soldiers 
and allied Sioux found the Arickaras abandoning it. 
A sharp skirmish took place ; the soldiers and trappers 
fell upon the rear guard, and, routing it speedily, 
dashed among the tepees, which were set on fire and 
quickly consumed. The Arickaras fled across the 
prairie. As the skirmish was in progress White Bear, 
the Sioux leader, was the hero of a desperate affair, 
which made him always well known among the whites, 
and greatly respected by all of the valiant men of the 
frontier. 

While the fight was at its hottest this Sioux chief- 
tain singled out a giant Arickara warrior, rushed upon 
him, tomahawk in hand, and cried out : 

" li you are a man, halt and struggle with me. We 
will see which is the better." 

The Arickara had a bow in his hand, and, turning 
upon the Bear, sent a shower of arrows whistling 
around him. One of them pierced his thigh, but the 
Sioux stopped and pulled the missile from the wound. 
Then, with tomahawk upraised, he charged upon his 
enemy. 

The Arickara chief had discharged his last arrow, 
and, seeing that it was too late to fly, wheeled and 
faced his antagonist. He was a large and powerful 



THOMAS EDDIE 187 

man, but the Sioux warrior was more agile. Uttering 
a loud and discordant yell, White Bear rushed at his 
foe. All the other combatants stopped for a moment, 
in order to view this strange and startling contest. 

The sun gleamed upon the tomahawks of the two 
braves as they danced around each other. Again and 
again each endeavored to strike a blow, but, by skill- 
ful dodging, the weapon was evaded, and the warriors 
continued to prance about in a circle. Suddenly the 
Sioux bent over and struck the Arickara warrior a 
fierce stroke upon the knee; so fierce, indeed, that he 
nearly severed his leg from his body. White Bear 
leaped forward, dodged sideways, and evaded the 
descending tomahawk of the Arickara chieftain. The 
latter tottered and then fell to the ground. 

Before he could recover, the Sioux had dealt a 
death-blow, and, amidst the wild yelling and screech- 
ing of the spectators, deftly scalped his enemy, hold- 
ing the top-knot aloft, and himself uttering the wild 
yelp of triumph. "Um-Yah! Um-Yah! Uh-Yah!" 

The Arickaras were dispersed and well punished 
for their attack upon Ashley and his men. The troops 
returned in triumph to Council Bluffs, and Eddie was 
congratulated by the head trapper for his part in the 
affair. 

" But now, my boy," said the veteran plainsman, 
" I want you to go up the Yellowstone, cross the 
mountains, and, with fourteen others, bring back a 
whole lot of peltries." 

" I'm your man," said Eddie. " I'm off as soon as 
you say the word." 



188 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

The fourteen trappers moved to the Yellowstone, 
where they hunted and trapped with great success, 
until winter. Then they made their way to the village 
of some friendly Crows. They were treated with 
kindness and hospitality, and had great good luck in 
procuring beaver peltries. When spring came they 
travelled towards the Rocky Mountains, after making 
appropriate speeches of friendship to their hosts, and 
giving them many presents. 

In the mountains their old enemies — the Black- 
feet — were very mischievous. They often stole their 
traps, attempted to stampede their ponies, and fired 
at them from ambush. Nearly every night the alann 
would sound : " Indians ! Indians ! Look to your 
horses ! " And, during the day, the Blackfoot senti- 
nels could be seen upon the skyline, perched upon the 
summit of some high hill. They would signal to their 
friends in the valleys below and tell them of the prog- 
ress of the trappers. The pioneers were repeatedly 
ambushed, but they marched valiantly on, fighting as 
they went. At last they left the mountains, pressed 
onward towards the Pacific slope, and, almost perish- 
ing from hunger, were rescued by some trappers of 
the Hudson Bay Company, who took them to their 
post on the Columbia River. They spent the winter 
in this place. 

When spring approached, the pioneers again set out 
for the Yellowstone. As they approached the Bear 
River, an Indian runner came bounding dow^n the trail. 
He was of the Snake tribe and held up his right hand 
in token of friendship. 



THOMAS EDDIE 189 

" I come from the people of the great chief, Pim," 
said he. " The Great Spirit has taken our beloved 
ruler to the land of the hereafter. It is requested by 
his people that our white brothers read over him their 
medicine book (the Bible) and sing one of their songs. 
Then lay our great chief to rest upon the banks of 
the Bear River. Here he can ever hear the wonderful 
music of the stream, and here his spirit can make the 
beaver plenty for our white brothers." 

It was a strange request. 

" Boys," said Thomas Eddie, " we will do as our 
red brother wishes. We will bury our good friend 
Pim in a Christian manner, for he was always kindly 
disposed to all the trappers and pioneers who came 
in contact with him." 

Turning back upon their trail, the trappers travelled 
forty miles to the camp of the Snakes. In relays of 
four, they carried the dead chieftain slowly and ten- 
derly to the banks of the roaring Bear River, and 
there laid him to rest, reading over him the burial 
service and singing a hymn. A volley was fired over 
the open grave, then, turning sadly towards the moun- 
tains, the men in buckskin left the red men to perform 
their own last rites over the dead chieftain. 

As they neared the hills, the pugnacious Black- 
feet again began to harass them. Every day they 
made an attack, but as they were principally armed 
with arrows they did little damage. A few had rifles, 
but they rarely used them. When the trappers had 
been fighting with these fellows, the year before, num- 
bers of them had fallen beneath the steady aim of the 



190 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

whites, but not a single trapper had been killed or 
even dangerously wounded. This shows you what 
poor marksmen the Indians were. 

Not long afterwards the little band of adventurers 
was passing through a narrow and lonely valley. As 
they reached a passage-way through high and precipi- 
tous cliffs, a shot rang out, and a wild Indian yell told 
them the Blackfeet were again on their trail. 

" We're ambushed, boys ! " cried Eddie. " Take to 
cover and ward off these skulkers, for from the sound 
of their fire it is apparent that they have plenty of 
guns and ammunition." 

He had scarcely spoken when he uttered a sharp 
cry of pain, for a rifle ball struck him in the thigh 
and penetrated well into his flesh. It was cut out by 
a trapper called Will Sublette, with a beaver knife, 
but our hero was in a serious condition for some time 
thereafter. Fortunately the members of the party 
were near water, so they threw up a rough barricade, 
by means of digging with their hunting-knives, and 
adding brush and tree trunks to the fortification. Sev- 
eral were unable to proceed, five had been killed, and 
twenty were severely wounded. 

The Blackfeet could be easily seen as they circled 
about, some on foot, some on their ponies. They 
continuously yelped, howled like coyotes, and kept up 
a fusillade against the earth and brush fortification. 
Fortune favored the trappers, however, as there was 
an abundance of beaver in the stream which ran 
through the valley and these were easily captured. 
Trout were also plentiful and the wanderers managed 



THOMAS EDDIE 191 

to put up a fortification behind which they could catch 
the speckled beauties without molestation by the 
painted and bloodthirsty Blackfeet. The wounded 
made a rapid recovery, and in ten days were able to 
travel. 

" Now, boys," said Eddie, at this time, " it is im- 
portant that we get away. Let us take our old clothes, 
stuff them with grass in order to deceive the red men, 
and light our camp-fires as usual. The Blackfeet will 
see the dark bodies near the flames and will not sus- 
pect that we have gotten away. We will move off 
towards the North, but you must make no noise." 

The trappers were eager to be off. That night they 
lighted their fires, placed the dummy figures so that 
they could be readily seen, and crept away from their 
little fortification. The Blackfeet did not suspect this 
departure, and, although it was a hazardous march 
over a rough path, allowed the men under Eddie to 
get safely away. By forced marches, and travelling 
over a crooked trail, the pioneers at length reached 
the Yellowstone. But their troubles were not yet at 
an end. 

Trapper Eddie had left camp one day in order to 
look for game, and was returning to the place where 
the horses were tethered, when he saw a small band 
of Crow' Indians who were endeavoring to drive off 
the stock. Firing at the leader of the expedition he 
knocked him to the ground. One of the braves 
jumped to the earth, lifted the dead chieftain upon 
his horse, and rode off with him. Eddie's comrades 
heard the shooting and galloped to meet their leader. 



192 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Eddie knew the valley well. It doubled almost upon 
itself, making a horse-shoe curve, and he was aware 
that should he ascend the mountain on the right he 
would be able to head off the redskins. 

" Boys ! " cried he. " Follow me over that moun- 
tain. We will meet the red men, recapture our 
bronchos, and pay them well for their dastardly at- 
tempt to run off our steeds." 

His men gave a cheer, and, putting spurs to their 
horses, galloped up the steep slope of the moun- 
tain. Sure enough, as they reached the top, there 
were the redskins just below them. Uttering a 
wild cow-boy yell, the trappers dashed to the 
assault. 

A narrow pass in the mountains lay before them 
and for this the Indians hastened, yelping fiercely as 
they went. The trappers were as experienced men 
at shooting on horseback as Buffalo Bill, and they 
soon dropped most of the Crows as they vainly en- 
deavored to escape. The fellow who was carrying 
the leader was badly wounded, and as he endeavored 
to ride his heavily burdened horse across a stream, 
which flowed through the valley, the animal stumbled 
and fell, throwing both the live and the dead man 
into the water. The trappers were close upon them 
as they went down, but what became of the dead 
chieftain and his attendant was never known. They 
disappeared from view. Whether the live Crow was 
killed by the fall, or was stunned and perished in the 
swift current, is still a question. Perhaps he made 
his way back to his own tribe. At any rate, a careful 



THOMAS EDDIE 198 

search failed to discover the whereabouts of either of 
them. 

"By George!" cried "Old Bill" Williams, who 
was one of Eddie's party, " I reckon that the dead 
one has carried the live fellow to Heaven with him." 

The horses were soon re-taken, and with smiles 
of satisfaction upon their faces the trappers returned 
to their camp on the Yellowstone. Here, seated 
around the blazing camp-fire, they again fought over 
their battles, compared notes of the country, made 
rude maps of their routes, with the various rivers, 
mountains, and plains; and those who had seen the 
waters of the Great Salt Lake told their comrades of 
this vast inland sea, whose waters were bitterly salt, 
and into whose depths nothing could sink because of 
the great buoyancy of the waves. 

There was an abundance of game in the Yellow- 
stone country. The fourteen scouts spent the entire 
season, and part of the next, in trapping for mink, 
beaver, otter, and bear. They set their beaver traps 
in all the suitable streams between the head of the 
Missouri River and the upper waters of the Platte, 
meeting with great success. Indians were plentiful, 
but seemed to leave them alone, for they had undoubt- 
edly heard of the summary vengeance which the trap- 
pers had taken upon the thieving Crows. 

" Boys," said Eddie, one day, " we are about all 
through with our ammunition and I would like to 
send seven of our number to Santa Fe, New Mexico, 
in order to get a supply. Who will be willing to 
undertake the trip?" 



194 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" I will," came from the throats of many, and it 
was plainly evident that there would be little difficulty 
in getting volunteers for this hazardous duty. 

Seven were chosen for the journey — seven of the 
strongest and most hardy — but the seven were never 
seen again. Cheerfully they set out across the sandy 
plains of Colorado. When they were just about to 
disappear from view, they turned and waved their 
hands to those left behind. 

" So long, boys," cried one. " We will meet again 
in a few months." 

But they never met again. From the time that they 
disappeared upon the horizon all trace of them was 
lost. Perhaps they fell before the arrows and bullets 
of the Sioux, Kiowa, Apache, Comanche, Navajo, or 
other red men. Perhaps the lounging and lazy Span- 
ish banditti captured them and carried them across 
the Mexican line. At any rate, their fate is enveloped 
in impenetrable mystery. 

Eddie and his companions waited for many months 
for some sign of their comrades. At length they gave 
up hopes of their return, and leaving a note to direct 
them where to go should they ever come back, made 
their way to the Yellowstone. Hostile red men hov- 
ered about them and endeavored to cut off their ponies, 
but these were dispersed in several smart skirmishes. 
Finally they reached a camp some forty miles above 
Boulder, Colorado, where Eddie and Bill Gordon had 
a rather serious encounter with some Arapahoes, when 
returning from an antelope hunt. 

" By gracious ! " cried Bill, the trapper, as he saw 



THOMAS EDDIE 195 

the redskins swooping down upon them. " I believe 
that we are about to lose our scalps, Eddie. ' Never 
say die,' must be our motto." 

" Let's break for that canyon," answered the lion- 
hearted Eddie. " If we get into those rocks the yeli>- 
ing redskins can shoot all they want to but they can't 
hurt us. We'll crawl over there by the water so that 
they cannot starve us out. We have food enough to 
last us for some time." 

Crack ! Crack ! sounded the rifles of the red men, 
and both Eddie and Gordon were struck. Nothing 
daunted, they ran to the shelter of the ravine, where 
they returned the fire with so much accuracy that 
two of the redskins fell to the ground. The Indians 
numbered about twelve, but only five were detached to 
follow the two scouts, while the rest rode away, car- 
rying the two dead men with them. As they went in 
the direction of the camp of the plainsmen Eddie 
feared that they would surprise his comrades and 
would annihilate them. 

" Gordon," said he, " you must remain here, while 
I run back to camp and warn our companions of the 
approach of these murderers. You have only five to 
deal with, and I know that you can handle them." 

Eddie ran swiftly up the canyon, and then, back- 
tracking, hid himself behind a huge boulder. The 
redskins saw him and made after his retreating form 
with great speed, but failed to see him in his hiding- 
place. They were soon out of sight. 

The scout darted down the canyon as rapidly as 
possible and dashed out upon the open prairie as hard 



196 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

as he could go. Before him was an Arapaho who 
was watching the Indian ponies. He was mounted 
upon a buckskin pinto and was armed with a rifle, 
tomahawk, and knife. As Eddie approached, he 
raised his rifle. The scout did hkewise and both fired 
at about the same moment. 

The trapper was struck in the shoulder, but the 
injury was not severe, while his own ball passed 
through the red man's thigh, breaking the leg of the 
horse upon which he was riding. This brought him 
to the earth and pinned the warrior beneath him, but 
the savage frantically struggled to escape, and, as 
the white man approached, drew his knife. His toma- 
hawk had dropped some distance away as he fell. 

Now was a thrilling encounter. Notwithstanding 
the pain in his wound and his weakness from loss of 
blood, the Indian made a desperate fight. He hoped, 
no doubt, that the shots which both he and his antag- 
onist had fired would bring his companions to his 
assistance. No such luck was in store for him. Eddie 
was a small and wiry man, while the Arapaho was a 
veritable giant in stature. The scout was armed with 
a tomahawk and endeavored to get in a thrust, but 
with ill success, for the redskin parried his every 
attempt. Just as Eddie had succeeded in making a 
sweeping blow, which, had it reached the red man, 
would have cut him down, the savage caught his arm, 
and the tomahawk flew from his grasp. The Indian's 
knife was in his left hand and the scout made a des- 
perate lunge in order to seize it. 

It was a hazardous moment for Thomas Eddie. 



THOMAS EDDIE 197 

As he struggled for the possession of the coveted 
knife he saw four Arapahoes emerge from the mouth 
of the canyon and dash towards them. It was touch 
and go with the famous man of the frontier. The 
savage made a thrust at this moment. Eddie caught 
the blade in his right hand, but the knife cut him 
through and through, inflicting a desperate and gaping 
wound. In spite of the pain it caused him, the trap- 
per held on. With his other hand he seized the Arap- 
aho by the throat and pushed him to the earth. 

A new complication arose. A shot rang out from 
the mouth of the canyon and the foremost Indian fell 
to the ground. The other three halted and faced the 
new enemy, while the big fellow with whom he was 
struggling turned his head for a moment, in order to 
see who was approaching. On the short moment hung 
his life, for Eddie wrested the long knife from him, 
and, as he looked around, buried the blade in his side. 
The Arapaho fell to the ground, with a long, gasping 
cry. The three savages, who were approaching, were 
now about fifty yards away and they fired upon the 
victorious scout, but did not hit him. Instead of this 
they wounded another one of their horses. 

Hurrah for Eddie! He had certainly done well, 
and was in the same class with Adam Poe, who, if 
you remember, had such a desperate battle with Big 
Foot, the celebrated Shawnee warrior and athlete.* 
The nervy fellow was not to be caught napping. 
Dashing to the nearest pony, he set off at full speed 
for the mouth of the canyon, circling as he did so, 

^ See " Famous Scouts," 



198 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

in order to avoid the three savages. To his surprise, 
he met Bill Gordon, who told him that from the top 
of a low mountain he had seen the Arapahoes engaged 
in a battle with a band of Crows, way off upon the 
plain, and that therefore he had returned to his assist- 
ance, as he knew that their companions in camp would 
not be molested. 

" Well, let's finish up these Arapahoes," cried Eddie. 
" And punish them for their interference with honest 
men. Are you with me, Bill? " 

Old Bill uttered a wild yell. 

" Of course I'm with you, son," said he. " Lay 
on ! Lay on ! " 

Spurring their mustangs, the two scouts dashed 
madly after the fleeing redskins. They caught up 
with them, and by excellent shooting succeeded in 
killing them all. At once they returned to their own 
camp with the amis and ponies of the savages, and, 
upon narrating their adventures to the other scouts, 
it was decided to move as rapidly as possible from 
such a dangerous locality. Turning towards the tur- 
bid waters of the Yellowstone, they soon reached this 
wonderful stream, where no other bands of Indians 
molested them. Their battles were over. 

Upon their return to the settlement at Council 
Bluffs all welcomed them uproariously, for many 
thought that the nervy fellows had perished in the 
wilderness. Their furs and peltries netted them a 
snug figure; so snug, in fact, that plainsman Eddie 
purchased a tavern of his own called the Green Tree. 
Here he dispensed a lavish hospitality and here he 



I 



THOMAS EDDIE 199 

brought his bride in 1833. She was a Miss Clarke, 
a reigning belle of St. Louis, and, although the mother 
of eleven sturdy children (five boys and six girls) 
always remained a woman of remarkable beauty. 
Many were the tales which the trapper used to tell 
his children of his early experiences on the plains, 
and, although the frost of old age gradually touched 
his auburn hair with snow, the fire and imagination 
of youth always kept the spirit of the old pioneer as 
fresh as when, as a young man, he made that danger- 
ous trip to the wild region of the West as a member 
of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company. Thus in peace 
and comfort passed the declining years of the last of 
the trappers of the Great Frontier. 



JIM BRIDGER: 

FOUNDER OF BRIDGER, WYOMING, AND 
FAMOUS INDIAN FIGHTER 

IN the lower corner of the mighty state of Wyo- 
ming is a town named after one of the most 
noted of the trappers of the West — Jim 
Bridger — who not only fought Indians but also 
traded and trapped in many an unexplored portion of 
the once unknown regions near the Rocky Mountains. 
Fort Bridger — a strong stockade near by — received 
its name from this famous plainsman, who hailed 
from Illinois, and who was not only of humble, but 
also of somewhat unrespectable parentage. Young 
Jim ran away, when quite young, in order to escape 
the hard usage which was his lot at home. On the 
border he soon made his mark, for he was not only 
a great rifle shot but also a man of unusual strength 
and agility. 

One day the scout was in a block-house, with a 
number of other frontiersmen who had recently been 
attacked by a band of Blackfoot warriors. These 
were encamped at no great distance, and a truce had 
been declared whereby neither side should molest the 
other. Jim Bridger wandered into the camp of the 
red men, and walked down the main street, looking, 

200 




Cuurtusy ut' the Century Company. 

JIM BRIDGER. 



JIM BRIDGER 201 

with an interested eye, at their tepees, their squaws, 
and the little papooses. 

" Ugh ! Ugh ! " grunted some young bucks. " Pale- 
face he look like pig. Ugh ! Ugh ! He no fight. He 
run away." 

Bridger grew crimson, but said nothing. 

" Paleface waddle like duck," continued one of the 
Blackfeet. " Paleface have nose like black dog." 

This was too much for the usually calm and col- 
lected Jim Bridger. Spinning upon his heel he rushed 
up to the nearest redskin, hit him a blow between the 
eyes and sent him reeling to the ground. Immediately 
the whole camp was in an uproar. The trapper was 
surrounded by a yelling, screeching mob of savages — 
was made a prisoner — and was carried, struggling, 
to a lodge upon the outskirts of the village. Then the 
Indians gathered in a dense throng in order to decide 
upon the fate of their captive. 

There was much discussion as to what was to be 
done with the scout. Some were for a light punish- 
ment, as the trappers in the block-house were numer- 
ous, and their rifles were accurate shooters when held 
by the steady hands of the frontiersmen. " No ! 
No! " shouted many others. " He should be carried 
to the mountains and there tortured. He has struck 
one of our braves. The paleface must suffer death! " 

Three older chiefs listened to all of this wild talk 
and then gave their decision. 

"The Paleface shall suffer death and torture! Let 
some of the young men go to his lodge and bring 
him to us." 



202 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

With a wild whoop, a number of the youthful war- 
riors rushed to the tepee in which they had shoved 
the trapper, stoutly bound with deer thongs. As they 
threw open the flap which hung over the doorway 
surprise and dismay marked their features, for the 
bird had flown. All were chagrined and angered at 
the loss of their quarry. Whooping savagely, they 
dashed back to their companions, many of whom 
favored an immediate attack upon the block-house; 
but the counsel of the older chiefs prevailed. 

" The paleface warriors have sticks which shoot 
very straight," said they. " We must go away, or 
they may attack us." 

Packing up their goods, and loading their travois, 
they fled to the mountains. 

But how had the daring plainsman escaped ? Hush ! 
It was a dusky-hued maiden who had set him free, 
and love will always find a way. 

Jim Bridger, in fact, had met a young Indian girl 
in the village who had returned the sudden affection 
of the young trapper with much interest. With sad- 
ness and dismay she watched his capture, and, when 
she saw him thrown into the lodge, at first she deter- 
mined to run to the block-house in order to notify his 
comrades of his predicament. She knew that they 
would then demand his release, but, fearing an attack 
in which some of her relatives would be killed and 
her lover would be doubtless assassinated, she decided 
to say nothing to the trappers. Instead, she deter- 
mined to set him free by her own hand. While the 
savages wrangled over what was to be his fate she 



JIM BRIDGER 203 

determined to creep to his tent, cut the deer thongs, 
and point out the way to freedom. 

Two sentinels watched the lodge where Jim Bridger 
lay, and, as the Indian maid approached, one of them 
moved towards her. She stooped almost to the earth, 
darted behind a neighboring tepee, and crept stealthily 
towards the rear of the tent. As luck would have it, 
there was no sentinel at this point, and she cut a long 
slit in the buffalo-skin curtain. Bridger was lying 
upon a robe endeavoring to snap his bonds, and as he 
saw her uttered an exclamation of surprise. At this, 
the girl clapped one hand over his mouth. With the 
other she cut the raw-hide thongs, and beckoned to 
him to follow her. 

The scout wonned his way out of the side of the 
tent, crept upon all fours to a safe distance, then rose 
and faced the Indian maiden. 

" Dearest," said he, " you have saved my life, and 
Jim Bridger never forgets the kindness of such a one 
as you. You shall be m}^ wife." 

The Blackfoot maiden blushed, and answered that 
whether there was peace or war between her people 
and his, she would meet him in a certain grove of 
pine trees, at the base of a distant mountain peak, 
after two full moons. She counselled him how to 
avoid the sentinels, how to elude any pursuers by 
darting through a certain canyon, and then, as he 
pressed her to his heart, their lips met. A moment 
more and she had torn herself away, and had van- 
ished down the steep cliffs upon which they had clam- 
bered. 



204 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

The scout did not tell his comrades how he had 
escaped, for he feared that they would laugh at him. 
And as the days passed by his brother trappers noticed 
that he was cutting notches in a stick in order to mark 
the time elapsing before some important event. At 
length the stick was almost filled with little triangular 
marks, and Bridger, saddling his horse, led another by 
a long lariat, and set off for a certain towering peak 
in the mountains. His companions little guessed 
what was his real destination. Five days elapsed be- 
fore they again laid eyes upon him, but all were start- 
led and much surprised to see him ride into the camp, 
one brilliant morning, with a dusky, Indian maiden 
by his side. A broad smile was upon his face, while 
the bride looked radiantly happy. As they rode up, 
the joyous trappers gave three times three for Mr. 
and Mrs. Jim Bridger. 

From now on the pioneer had an adventurous 
career, and, although away from his home for months 
at a time, was always devoted to his Blackfoot bride, 
although he often had passages at arms with her 
kinsmen. Not long after his marriage he was in the 
Medicine Bow Mountains, with a party of trappers, 
when they were surrounded by hundreds of the Black- 
feet. Crying to them to surrender, the savage war- 
riors circled about upon their ponies, screeching like 
so many devils, for they were sure that they had the 
white men cornered. It looked dark for the adven- 
turous trappers. 

" We must fight desperately, men," cried out the 
gallant Jim. " And must make our way towards the 



JIM BRIDGER 205 

mountains near the Yellowstone. There we can stand 
these pesky varmints off from behind the boulders. 
But now we must break through their circle. Are you 
all ready? Then — come on." 

The trappers cheered as Bridger led a charge 
against the wild riders of the plains, who scattered 
before the resolute attack. By alternately fighting 
and retreating, the frontiersmen gradually made their 
way towards the distant hills, and — although a few 
were badly wounded — at length they reached the 
protection of some giant boulders which afforded 
them excellent protection against the bullets and ar- 
rows of the red men. Seeing that it was now impos- 
sible to get them, the savages fired a parting volley 
and retired. The last shot proved to be an unlucky 
one for Jim Bridger's best friend — a man named 
Milton Sublette — as a ball from an Indian rifle struck 
him in the ankle and tore through both flesh and bone. 

Stanching the flow of blood as best they could, the 
trappers carried their wounded companion away with 
them upon a Mackinaw blanket, slung between two of 
the pack-animals. His leg was amputated with the aid 
of a beaver knife hacked into a saw, and in spite of 
the fact that they possessed no chloroform, ether, or 
other anesthetic, the patient bore everything with sto- 
ical indifference. His life was saved, and — strange 
as it may seem — upon his arrival at Saint Louis he 
submitted to a second operation in order to obtain a 
better-looking stump, and was back again in his old 
haunts within six months : trapping, fishing, and 
travelling with as much joy in living as before. Such 



206 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

was the spirit and energy of these old men of the 
mountains. 

Bridger was later engaged in piloting emigrant 
trains across the prairie, in the vicinity of the Repub- 
lican River, where Sandy Forsyth had his great battle 
with Roman Nose some years later. With him was 
a scout called Jim Beckwith, who has left the follow- 
ing account of a tight, little brush which was indulged 
in by two bands of Sioux and Pawnee warriors, just 
after the trappers had driven away a force of about 
fifty Pawnees who had attempted to run off their 
horses. 

" I seen that the Pawnees would soon be after us 
again," said the gallant Beckwith, " and I knowed that 
the Sioux would do the same thing. So I saw that 
we'd have about a thousand redskins after us, and 
we wouldn't be a taste for them. I seen that this 
wouldn't do, so I says to Jim Bridger, says I, ' Jim, 
what are we goin' ter do?' 'Give it up,' said Jim, 
says he, ' Fight till the reds down us, I reckon, and 
then turn up our toes like men.' All this time — bless 
your soul — them pilgrims what we wuz a-guidin', 
wuz in the wagons cryin'. It wuz awful. 

" Wall, I jest made up my mind, sir, that I didn't 
intend tew give my heart tew no Injun jest then, so 
I callates about whar th' two parties of red devils 
would meet. When we got thar, we drove over a 
raise in th' plain and jes' waited fur 'em. In about 
two hours I seen th' dust raisin' in th' East in er gret, 
big cloud. ' Them's Pawnees,' says I, * by th' tarnal 
prophet.' Then I looked intew th' West, and thar th' 



JIM BRIDGER 207 

dust wuz raisin', too. ' Tliem's Sioux,' says I, ' an' th' 
Devil take 'em. I hev seen pleasanter sights.' Wall, 
after waitin' some time th' Injuns seen each other, an' 
of all th' cussed yellin' you ever heard, it wuz thar. 
I jes' laid back an' laughed, while Bridger done some 
tall chucklin' too, when them two bands got together. 
It was lively times, yew bet. 

" Th' Injuns didn't have many guns in them days, 
but you kin jest rest assured that they used their ar- 
rers fur what wuz in 'em. Thar they went circlin' 
aroun' each other, bendin' under their bosses' necks, 
an' lettin' th' arrers fly. At one time th' air wuz near 
so full uv arrers thet it made a cloud, shettin' out th' 
sun. Their ponies got stuck full uv 'em. Their dogs 
wuz full uv 'em, an' every Injun in th' gang had er 
lot uv 'em stickin' inter him. I seed a big, fat feller 
ridin' off with two uv 'em stickin' into th' seat uv his 
buckskins, an' it reminded me so uv er big pincushion, 
thet I near died uv laughin'. Then they begun tew 
run. They run this way, an' they run that, and — by 
Gravy — I believe thet some uv them Injuns be still 
runnin' from one another. By Gum, they wuz so busy 
fightin' each other, thet they left us plum alone." 

This was certainly a laughable incident, but a bit 
later occurred another episode which was not quite 
so amusing for the daring and adventurous Jim 
Bridger. 

About six months after the fight upon the Republi- 
can, with five companions, the trapper was travelling 
near the Platte River. The plainsmen were in search 
of buffalo and had seen a fair sized herd when a band 



208 FA^IOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

of Sioux Indians appeared upon one of the rolling 
bluffs. The trappers sought cover, for they expected 
an attack, and they were not far from being wrong, 
for the red men immediately made after them ; circled 
about them upon their ponies, and fired their rifles at 
long range. 

" Dig a trench with your knives," shouted Bridger. 
" These fellows are out for our blood and they are 
going to come pretty near getting us. Move over 
near that water hole so that they can't make us die 
of thirst, and we'll see who can last the longest." 

Scrambling to their knees, the plainsmen quickly 
threw up a barricade near the water hole, and, hob- 
bling their ponies behind them, began to take careful 
aim at the Sioux — one of whom was soon sent to the 
Happy Hunting Grounds. This enraged the remain- 
der, and wild, blood-curdling yells echoed across the 
prairie as they drew nearer, hoping to make a rush 
and annihilate the five white trappers. 

" Get ready, boys ! " again shouted Bridger. 
" They're going to rush us ! " 

All prepared for the advance by laying out addi- 
tional ammunition and placing long hunting-knives 
near at hand. In a few moments the Sioux came on, 
whipping their ponies to their utmost speed, and 
yelping madly. 

A ringing volley knocked over four of the leaders, 
but still on they came. Another shot sent a fifth 
chieftain to the Great Beyond, and, as the trappers 
reloaded, the Sioux seemed to lose heart. They 
swerved aside from the breastwork, offering excellent 



JIM BRIDGER 209 

targets to the plainsmen, and, with a dull thud, still 
another red warrior fell from his galloping pinto. 
Two of the trappers, meanwhile, were wounded by 
bullets, while an arrow stuck into the coat sleeve of 
Jim Bridger, himself. 

Now retiring beyond range, the redskins kept up 
a perpetual fusillade with rifles and with arrows. The 
trappers held their fire, threw up still higher entrench- 
ments, and waited for the next onslaught, but this did 
not come. Instead, the Sioux lighted the long, dry 
prairie grass, and a sheet of flame and smoke curled 
surely and steadily towards the band of plainsmen, for 
the wind was blowing directly upon them. What were 
they to do now ? 

Necessity is the mother of invention. Quick as a 
flash, Jim Bridger leaped across the embankment, 
touched the grass of¥ immediately in front of them, 
and burnt off quite a small alley-way before the roar- 
ing crackling flames came to their place of refuge. 
The force of the flames thus spent itself before the 
embankment was reached, and the wily savages re- 
newed their whooping and yelling. Again they 
charged, but again they were driven off; while night 
closed over both besieger and besieged, bringing a lull 
to the unequal battle. 

Next day the fight was renewed, and all five of the 
trappers were wounded. Towards evening it was de- 
cided that one of the party should creep through the 
lines and bring aid from a camp of fifty trappers, who 
were some miles down the river. The choice fell upon 
Jim Bridger, and it found him ready to undertake 



210 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

the hazardous expedition. At twelve o'clock he 
crawled over the side of the little fortification and 
wormed his way towards the fringe of red warriors 
who lay about them in a circle. 

The scout kept on as quietly as he could and crawled 
for fully two hundred yards before he saw, or heard, 
anything of the redskins. Then he got to his feet (as 
he considered himself through their lines) and pre- 
pared to run. But before him was an Indian pony, 
its master sound asleep by its side. The horse had 
been feeding in a deep ravine, and — suddenly scent- 
ing the trapper — gave a snort which roused its 
master. The Sioux warrior gazed stupidly at the 
frontiersman. 

But Bridger did not take long to make up his mind 
what to do. He dashed towards the Indian, intending 
to strangle him before he could give the alarm. The 
redskin uttered a loud whoop, and his companions 
immediately ran in his direction. The scout realized 
that nothing was now to be gained by silence, and, 
pulling out his pistol, shot the red man dead. Then, 
leaping upon his mustang, he urged him upon the gal- 
lop. The Sioux were all around him on their pintos, 
but he had the good fortune to be upon one of their 
fastest horses, which seemed to outdistance any of 
the pursuers. 

It was a hot chase. The red men fired again and 
again at the fleeing trapper but they could not hit him. 
His mustang leaped over the deep crevasses, dodged 
badger and prairie-dog holes, and brought him safely 
to the camp of his companions by two o'clock in the 



JIM BRIDGER 211 

afternoon. The Sioux had given up the chase, and, 
little suspecting that other trappers were camped near 
by, had returned to the siege of the four, hoping 
now to make one sudden rush and gain their scalps. 
Their blood was up, for twenty-five of their num- 
ber had fallen before the accurate fire of the be- 
sieged. 

" Come at once ! " cried the panting Bridger, as he 
reached the camp of the plainsmen. " If you do not 
hurry, my four companions will all be massacred by 
the red men. To horse ! To horse ! " 

It did not take the trappers long to catch their 
ponies and jump into their saddles. 

" Show us where your friends are ! " cried they, 
" and we'll fix th' redskins before another sun." 

Bridger turned and piloted the band of plainsmen 
back to the place where he had left his beleaguered 
companions. They went on the run, but, making a 
wide detour in order to gain the sand-hills in the rear 
of the besiegers, waited until morning. Then they 
heard rifle shots in the distance and knew that the 
battle was on again. 

Creeping towards the sound of firing, they soon saw 
the Sioux preparing for a final charge upon the valor- 
ous four, and opened upon them. They had clustered 
together for a rush, and this weltering volley fairly 
took the heart out of those of small courage. Many 
fell dead, — the rest made all haste to get out of 
range, — while the four trappers in the embankment 
came running towards their deliverers like wild men. 
With yells of joy they hugged the burly form of Jim 



212 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Bridger, to whose nerve and courage they owed their 
lives. 

The scout and plainsman soon moved , from the 
upper waters of the Missouri — after the fur trade 
had ceased to be prosperous — and founded a trading 
post in the southwestern part of the State of Wyo- 
ming — named Fort Bridger. Here he dealt in skins, 
furs, and peltries, accumulating a large amount of 
property, as the Fort was a stopping-place for all the 
emigrant trains bound for Salt Lake City and for 
California. He remained true to his Blackfoot wife, 
and several half-breed children made life merry in the 
long, low log-hut which the scout had erected as his 
abode. The famous plainsman lived to a ripe, old age 
— like most of the early trappers — and was ever 
ready to tell of his battle with the Sioux, when he 
rescued his four companions from their clutches. This 
was the most thrilling of all his many adventures upon 
the frontier. 



"OLD BILL" WILLIAMS: 

THE FAMOUS LOG RIDER OF COLORADO 

" T HATE every Indian that I ever saw and would 
I just as lief take a shot at one as eat! " 

So spoke a raw-boned trapper, with a tan- 
gled mat of brown hair hanging across his shoulders, 
and, as he said this, he gazed vindictively toward 
some Indian warriors who were riding slowly past the 
wagon-train with which the plainsman was travelling. 
His comrades looked at him and laughed, for this was 
the favorite theme of Bill Williams, familiarly known 
as " Old Bill," although this was a term of endear- 
ment and not because of his years, for he was as young 
as any of them. 

The Indians rode on, and from their own glances, 
which they threw at the gaunt and ungainly trapper, 
it was plainly evident that they fully reciprocated the 
feeling which the plainsman held for them. " Ugh ! 
He one bad man!" a gaudy warrior was heard to 
remark. 

" Old Bill " Williams was born in Tennessee, his 
father being one of the Virginian pioneers who crossed 
the Blue Ridge and settled in the state when it was 
swarming with Indians, — all eager to have the land 
for themselves alone — and not willing to allow the 
whites to get possession of it without a severe strug- 

213 



214 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

gle. His son grew up in surroundings of savagery 
and warfare. He took part in many of the Ohio cam- 
paigns against the red men in that state, and was in- 
variably used as a scout, for his knowledge of wood- 
craft was excellent. After the red men were partially 
subdued, he moved further west to the Rockies, where 
his scouting habits still clung to him. He would often 
be absent for many weeks upon his solitary expedi- 
tions, and would as frequently return with scalps as 
with the furs of wild animals. 

The Crows and the Blackfeet were continually at 
war with each other, with the advantage upon the side 
of the latter, for the Crows were more cowardly than 
their warlike enemies. They had the advantage, how- 
ever, of having a white renegade to lead them. His 
name was Rose : formerly one of the land pirates who 
lived near and upon the treacherous waters of the 
Mississippi. This desperate man taught the redskins 
how to fight like the whites and continually advised 
them in their councils of war, so that they often de- 
feated the Blackfeet in their sanguinary encoun- 
ters. 

One day " Old Bill " Williams was off on a scout 
with Bill Gordon, and, becoming separated from him, 
was endeavoring to reach camp by water, so as to 
leave no trail for the eye of some lurking Blackfoot 
warrior. He was therefore floating down stream on 
a log. As he reached a shallow part of the creek the 
muddied water and footprints upon the bank showed 
where a big grizzly had just gone by. 

" By Gravy," said the scout to himself, " here's the 



'' OLD BILL " WILLIAMS 215 

chance to make a hundred dollars from that old fel- 
low's hide. I'm after him." 

Wading to the shore, he started off through the 
brush, and followed Bruin with his head down, for 
the bushes kept slapping him in the eyes. As he was 
thus proceeding, he suddenly debouched from the 
brush into a cleared space. Before him was no 
grizzly, but a band of ten Blackfoot warriors. They 
stopped in amazement, and so did Williams, who said 
in loud tones : " Gee-hos-i-phat ! " 

The Indians, on the other hand, set up a loud 
yelping, and, seeing them preparing to fire, " Old Bill " 
raised his trusty flint-lock, pulled the trigger, and 
knocked over a big, fine-looking savage who had on 
the war-bonnet of a chieftain. Not stopping to make 
closer acquaintance, the wiry Bill then dashed into a 
neighboring canyon. As he glanced over his shoulder 
he saw that only four of the Blackfeet were coming 
after him. 

The scout raced along for about a quarter of a 
mile; then, seeing that the redskins were far behind, 
stopped in order to load his rifle. He had just rammed 
home a ball when the Blackfeet began to draw near, 
so he dropped behind the stump of a moss-grown tree 
and waited for them to come on. They approached 
quite hurriedly, gazing at the ground for tracks, and 
eagerly pointing out the traces of the trapper's foot- 
prints. When they came within good range " Old 
Bill " pressed the trigger and a Blackfoot brave fell to 
the earth, shot through the heart. 

" I reckon that this will stop 'em fer er minute er 



216 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

two," said the man of the plains as he continued his 
flight up the canyon. He raced ahead for about a half 
a mile, then halted again in order to load his gun. 

The Indians were soon upon him, but they had 
learned caution, and spread out on either side of him, 
in order to get in his rear. " Old Bill " was not to be 
caught napping, and ran like a deer still further up 
the divide. He was much swifter of foot than the 
red men, and soon left them far behind. The scout 
sat down upon a fallen tree trunk, and said to him- 
self : 

" Now, I'll back track like a grizzly, and will get 
another shot at these painted hyenas." 

Suiting the action to the words, he put on a furious 
burst of speed for about a half a mile, then doubled 
back for about two hundred yards. To the right was 
some fallen timber, and into this the trapper skipped 
like a molly cotton-tail. " Ah ha ! " said he. " I 
think this will get 'em ! " 

In a few moments the red warriors hastened by on 
the run : one of them about a hundred yards astern 
of the rest. As he came opposite the hiding-place of 
the scout, " Old Bill " leaped into view, and knocking 
him down with a well directed bullet, seized his vic- 
tim's gun just as another started to come back to 
where he was standing. This one was dispatched by 
the Blackfoot rifle, and " Old Bill " had the satisfac- 
tion of seeing the fourth (and last) savage run up 
the canyon in terror, screaming : 

" The Great Spirit is with him ! The Great Spirit 
is with him ! " 



'' OLD BILL " WILLIAMS 217 

As he disappeared a broad smile came to the face 
of the trapper, while he wiped the beads of perspira- 
tion from his brow. 

" By Crickets ! " said he. " A tight squeeze, Bill. 
A tight squeeze ! " 

I regret to state that the old fellow scalped the dead 
redskins, for he was apparently as much of an Indian 
as were his enemies. He also took the precaution to 
plunge into a mountain stream which gurgled and 
rushed down a side of the canyon. He followed 
the water until he reached the mouth of the can- 
yon, then, as he heard voices, dashed into a crevasse 
in the rocks. A number of Blackfeet soon went 
by. 

" Where has the old wolf gone? " he heard one of 
them ask. " He runs like a rabbit." 

" You are right," said another, " but he has an 
eye like a hawk, and can hold the shooting-stick with- 
out flinching. Go carefully! Go carefully! He may 
be hidden near by ! " 

They went on up the canyon, and not long after- 
wards a wailing and screeching came from their di- 
rection, showing that they had discovered their dead. 

" This is no place for me," mused the old scout. 
" I must get away quickly." 

Darting up a neighboring gully, he had just stowed 
himself away in a fissure of the rocky wall when he 
heard the Blackfeet returning. They were carrying 
their dead companions and were wailing dismally. 
" Old Bill " knew that there would be small chance 
for him should he fall into their clutches. The cold 



218 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

shivers ran up and down his spine as he contemplated 
such a happening. 

For two days the trapper remained in the canyon. 
He was afraid to venture forth, because the Blackfeet 
were undoubtedly near by, and he knew that, once 
they again saw him, it would be all up with " Old 
Bill." He had a tough, dried piece of buffalo meat 
with him, which kept up his strength, although he 
suffered terribly from thirst during the day, for he 
was afraid to venture to the stream until nightfall. 
Far off, in the valley, he could hear the death chant 
of the red men. 

Three days passed and " Old Bill " was feeling faint 
from lack of food. Climbing the wall of the canyon, 
behind his place of refuge, he saw the Blackfeet far 
below him in the valley. They were moving camp. 
Hurrah ! Their tepee poles were coming down and 
they were walking away. They gradually faded from 
view. Again Hurrah ! The old scout was smiling 
now. 

Luck was still with him, for he shot an antelope 
soon afterwards, cooked the stringy meat and felt 
stronger. Then he rolled a stout log loose from some 
fallen timber, pushed it into the river and paddled 
down stream upon this flimsy boat. 

" I reckon Fll dodge the redskins, now," he said 
to himself. " A feller walkin' leaves too good er 
trail." 

No savage eye detected him in his journey upon 
this log, and, about a week later, he arrived, smiling, 
at a frontier trading post. " Old Bill " was royally 



"OLD BILL" "WILLIAMS 219 

welcomed by his brother trappers, who slapped him 
on the back, drank his health, not once, but twenty 
times, and gave him a new rifle which they had just 
captured from some half-breeds. 

" Old Bill " took this with good humor, for it was 
all in the day's work of a scout upon the frontier. In a 
week he left upon another excursion into the wilds, 
and alone, for he was like a " solitary," or buffalo 
bull, who roams the prairie away from the rest of 
the herd. He preferred to be without associates 
in his work. " Two men," said he, " leave a 
broader trail than one, and there are many Indians 
in the country. Two men make more noise. I go 
alone." 

" He was a great hunter," said an old Indian. " He 
was a great trapper — took many beaver — and a 
great warrior, for his belt was full of scalps. But he 
have no friend : no squaw. Always by himself. He 
like the eagle in the heavens, or the panther in the 
mountains. He one strange man." 

Yes, " Old Bill " was a strange man, but he lived 
his life upon the frontier for many years without a 
mishap, although his body bore the marks of many 
an encounter. Silent and taciturn, those who were 
associated with him knew only of his deeds by the 
fresh scalps at his girdle, the notches upon the stock 
of his gun, and the scars upon the exposed portion 
of his body. His traps yielded him a small living, 
and with this he seemed to be content. 

The trapper lived to be an old man. Although in 
innumerable skirmishes and hand-to-hand encounters 



220 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

with the Blackfeet, Crows, Sioux, and other wild 
riders of the plains, he came off scott free until he 
met a band of Blackfeet when trapping near the head- 
waters of tlie Missouri River. Here he was sur- 
rounded by twenty or thirty braves, but, by skillfully 
climbing his pony down the shelving sides of a can- 
yon, made his escape. They found his tracks, how- 
ever, and followed him like a pack of hounds after 
a fox. 

" Old Bill " still was lithe and active, although 
sixty years, and more, of age. Again and again he 
hid himself, and, with two or three shots, laid out 
as many of the advancing redskins. He was fortu- 
nate in being able to keep away from the vindictive 
warriors for four full days, although wounded twice : 
an arrow point in his thigh and a bullet through the 
fleshy part of his leg. Finally, he reached a series of 
canyons near the Yellowstone, where numerous 
streams made it possible for him to leave little 
trace of his trail, and great boulders of rock hid 
his retreating form. The red men here gave up 
the chase, for their quarry defied both fatigue and 
wounds. 

" The Great Spirit is still with the Lone Wolf," 
said they. " We will let him go, for here he can kill 
many of us before we can reach him." 

It was November. A bleak wind blew gusts of 
snow across the sandy plain as the red warriors re- 
treated. " Old Bill " continued on his way into the 
advancing storm. The white flakes now covered the 
earth. A bitter wind assailed him, and great piles of 



"OLD BILL'^ WILLIAMS 221 

drifting snow whirled and eddied about his gaunt and 
emaciated form. Dismounting under the side of a 
projecting cliff, he made a fire by means of rubbing 
two dried sticks together, ate some biltong, which he 
fortunately had stowed away in a saddle-bag, and lay 
down to rest. His poor, shivering pony cropped the 
dry bunches of grass in silent misery. 

Two weeks later a party of trappers were crossing 
the stream near the place where the old fellow had 
lain down, and saw a pony nibbling the bark from a 
cotton-wood tree. He was gaunt, famished, and his 
ribs were fairly sticking through his flesh. They 
rode up to him and were much distressed to see the 
form of a man lying beneath the white mantle of 
newly fallen snow. They brushed this away and 
found " Old Bill ; " his grizzled head bent forward 
upon his breast, and his clothing stained with the 
wounds which had sapped his very life-blood. He 
had gone to the Great Beyond. 

With tears in their eyes the trappers hollowed out 
a grave for the lone refugee. Here they buried him, 
and finding his faithful steed unwilling to leave the 
place where he had carried his master, shot the ema- 
ciated animal. They placed both in the same grave, 
and over their forms erected a huge pile of stones, 
not only to mark the last resting-place of " Old Bill," 
but also to keep the wolves and coyotes from digging 
up the remains. 

Thus, in a wild canyon perished the aged solitary, 
and in the peace and quiet of that wilderness in which 
he loved to wander, hovers the spirit of the lonely 



222 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

man of the plains. His last resting-place well suited 
the career of " Old Bill : " trapper, scout, and fearless 
adventurer among the savage men, wild beasts, and 
inhospitable wastes of the then unpeopled West. 



"BIG FOOT" WALLACE: 

NOTED RANGER ON THE TEXAN 
FRONTIER 

ABOUT the year 1839, a Waco Indian chieftain 
lived in the State of Texas, whose feet were 
of such giant proportions that he was called 
" Big Foot." He was a bold and daring fellow. 
Often, when darkness hid his movement, he would 
sneak into the frontier town of Austin, would kill 
whom he could, and would carry off horses and other 
property. In vain the settlers tried to dispatch him, 
for he was a veritable scourge to the settlements. 

The fellow was a physical giant, being six feet seven 
inches in height, of muscular build, and weighing 
about three hundred pounds. His tracks measured 
fourteen inches, from heel to toe, so you can readily 
see that the name that was applied to him was not ill 
chosen. Often these footprints would be seen in the 
sandy soil, after he had committed one of his thieving 
expeditions, and the settlers used to cry out : 

" Good-by to our horses ! Old * Big Foot ' is 
around again. Good-by ! " 

One evening the big Indian came into Austin, and, 
after prowling around for a time, committed some 
theft upon the property of a settler named Gravis. 

223 



224 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

He then went to the cabin occupied by a huge, lanky 
ranger called Wallace. Next morning Gravis trailed 
the Indian to the doorstep of the pioneer, and, with- 
out trying to trace it any further, aroused the owner 
of the cabin. 

" See here, Wallace," said he, " you've been steal- 
ing from my place and I intend to get even with you. 
No one has as big feet as you have around here, and 
I have found your tracks leading from my hut to 
your very door." 

The accused man grew angry and prepared to whip 
the other. 

" Look here," said Gravis, at this juncture, " if you 
prove to me that these are not your foot-prints you 
can go clear and I will apologize." 

He stepped aside, as he spoke, and Wallace imme- 
diately went to the Indian's track. He placed his foot 
in it, exclaiming : 

" By Gravy, Gravis, this is old * Big Foot,' the 
Injin's, track. Can't you see that it's mor'n two 
inches longer than my own ! " 

The first speaker bent over the marks with an ex- 
clamation of astonishment. 

" You're right," said he. " Wallace, old man, I 
beg your pardon." And, shaking him warmly by the 
hand, he walked away. 

While this was going on, a man named Fox came 
to the doorway of Wallace's hut. He had been spend- 
ing the night there, for he was a business partner of 
the frontiersman. As his friend turned towards the 
cabin, he cried out gleefully: 




BIG FUUT " WALLACE. 



''BIG FOOT" WALLACE 225 

" Well, well, old scout. When ' Big Foot ' — the 
Indian — is not around we will all call you ' Big 
Foot.' Ha! Ha! That's a good one, I swan. ' Big 
Foot ' you'll be from henceforth." 

And that is the way that William Alexander An- 
derson Wallace came to be called " Big Foot " Wal- 
lace. 

Born in Lexington, Virginia, in 1817, this intrepid 
frontiersman came of good, old Scottish stock, and 
stock that was of fighting spirit, for two of his uncles 
were killed in the battle of Guilford Court House. 
The Wallaces were all of powerful build, and the hero 
of our sketch was six feet two inches in height (in 
his moccasins) and weighed two hundred and forty 
pounds. He had long arms, large hands, and thick, 
curly, black hair. One of his uncles was nearly seven 
feet tall and his brother was six feet five inches in 
height. 

As a young fellow, " Big Foot " Wallace had little 
of the excitement which was to come to him in later 
years. When about twenty years of age war com- 
menced between the American colonists and Mexicans 
for the possession of Texas. Many young men went 
from Virginia to assist the Texans in driving out the 
soldiers under Santa Anna, among them Samuel 
Wallace, the older brother of William with the big 
feet. Samuel was killed in the massacre of Colonel 
Fannin's men at Goliad, which has been described in 
" Famous Scouts," and with him were also dispatched 
three cousins of our hero. When the news of this 
affair reached Lexington, Virginia, great was the grief 



226 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

among the relatives of these brave and valiant fron- 
tiersmen, and William was much upset by it. 

" I am going to Texas," he cried out. " And I 
intend to spend my life in killing Mexicans. Those 
men who could massacre my brother after he had sur- 
rendered and had been disarmed, can expect no quar- 
ter from me. I intend to have revenge ! " 

He had splendid opportunities in later years to make 
good this threat. 

Taking ship from New Orleans to Galveston, Will- 
iam soon set foot on Texan soil. The war was over. 
Santa Anna had been defeated and captured the year 
before, at the famous battle of San Jacinto, and Texas 
was now an independent republic. So the young 
ranger drifted to Colorado, where he was soon sur- 
rounded by a large party of Indians and was captured. 
They carried him to their camp, but he only remained 
there a week, before he slipped away, eluded his pur- 
suers, and got back to the settlement of San Antonio. 
His restless spirit could not be confined to the streets 
of a city and he soon went far to the southwest, where 
he camped and hunted along the Medina River. 
Finally he built a cabin there and lived the life of a 
lone huntsman and trapper in a region which was 
infested by Indians, horse-thieves, and fugitives from 
justice. 

" Big Foot " Wallace had not been long in the 
country before he realized that something had to be 
done in order to keep law and order in this unsettled 
land. Besides the numerous raids of hostile bands of 
Indians — who roamed at will from New Mexico to 



'^Bia FOOT" WALLACE 227 

the coast region of Texas — desperadoes and gamblers 
swarmed around all the border towns, and more par- 
ticularly around San Antonio. No one was safe who 
opposed these wild fellows, and it was almost impossi- 
ble to keep horses. The thieves would even dig 
through the adobe walls of the stables in order to steal 
them. A strong hand was needed to awe these des- 
perate men and keep the Indians in check. There was 
one man in western Texas at this time who was quite 
equal to the emergency. His name was " Captain " 
Jack Hays. 

The Governor of Texas sent for him. 

" I hereby commission you to raise a company of 
Rangers," said he to the gallant Captain Jack. " You 
will make San Antonio your headquarters and you 
must hold both Indians and horse-thieves in check. 
You can follow the redskins anywhere that you wish, 
and, if necessary, you can shoot any horse-thief upon 
the spot." 

" Big Foot " Wallace soon heard of the Rangers, 
and applied for admission at once. He was accepted, 
for he was strong, fearless, a good rider, and an ex- 
cellent shot. Captain Hays was very particular as 
to the kind of men that he enlisted, and that is why 
he had the best set of Indian fighters that Texas ever 
produced. Each man had to have a good horse, val- 
ued at one hundred dollars, and also a rifle of the best 
make. The desperadoes and horse-thieves soon began 
to disappear from the neighborhood of San Antonio. 

In the numerous affrays which now took place " Big 
Foot " Wallace had a prominent part. Several battles 



228 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

were fought with the Indians. In 1842 the Mexicans 
made a sudden descent from Mexico and captured San 
Antonio. At the quarters used by the Texan Rangers 
they found a pair of pantaloons belonging to " Big 
Foot " Wallace, and this they appropriated as their 
own. 

" By the eternal prophet," shouted the scout, when 
he hear of the theft. " I will sure get even with the 
Greasers for this, and I will kill a Sefior and get an- 
other pair of breeches, or bust." 

Not long afterwards Jack Hays and his men rode 
near the town and gave the Mexicans such " a dare " 
that their whole force of cavalry and infantry came 
out to chase them. There were four hundred Mex- 
icans and but a small squad of Rangers, yet the Tex- 
ans kept up a stiff firing and retreated slowly across 
the plains. During the battle, " Big Foot " Wallace 
was continually upon the lookout to kill a big Mexican 
and get another pair of trousers to replace his own. 
He had not long to wait. 

The Mexicans soon charged, and in the mix-up 
that ensued one daring fellow approached Wallace, 
and pointing his carbine at him, cried out : " Take 
that, you accursed cow-thief!" Whereupon he dis- 
charged his piece in his face. The large ounce ball 
from the clumsy musket just grazed the nose of the 
scout and nearly blinded him with smoke. " Big 
Foot " fired his own piece, but missed. As this oc- 
curred, another Ranger cried out : " My, my, what 
awful bad shooting," and — aiming his rifle — quickly 
sent a ball through the Mexican's body. The man 



''BIG FOOT" WALLACE 229 

from the south of the Rio Grande fell against a 
mesquite tree and soon died, 

" Big Foot " breathed more easily, and during the 
next charge heard one of his companions call out : 

" ' Big Foot,' yonder is a Mexican who has on a 
pair of pants large enough to fit you. Go get 'em, 
boy ! Go get 'em ! '* 

The Mexican in question was assisting some of 
the wounded back to the rear. Wallace kept his eye 
on him and said : 

" If I can get him, I will. But th' critter moves 
about so fast that I can't draw a bead on him." 

As he spoke, he attracted the attention of General 
Caldwell, who commanded some infantrymen who 
had come to the assistance of the Rangers. The dress 
of the giant Texan, his massive frame, and his actions, 
were sufficient to mark him as a man born to leader- 
ship. 

" What command do you hold, sir? " inquired Cald- 
well, as he rode up to the fighting Ranger. 

" None," answered " Big Foot," saluting. " I am 
one of Jack Hays' Rangers and I want that fellow's 
breeches over there, as the Greasers have stolen mine 
from me." He pointed, as he spoke, to his intended 
victim. 

The general laughed and rode on, determined to 
advance " Big Foot " to a Lieutenancy, if the oppor- 
tunity presented itself. The Ranger, meanwhile, crept 
nearer to the fellow with the big pantaloons, and be- 
fore many moments laid him low by a well directed 
shot. Making a dash for the fallen man, he seized 



230 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

him by the shoulders, dragged him into the American 
lines, and soon was wearing a new pair of yellow 
trousers. 

" Hurrah for * Big Foot,' " shouted his companions. 
" He has, at last, made good his threat of vengeance. 
Hurrah for ' Big Foot ! ' " 

The Mexicans were defeated, driven from San An- 
tonio, and were followed by Captain Jack Hays and 
his Rangers as far as the Hondo River, where the 
rear guard was attacked by a detachment under " Big 
Foot," and some cannon were captured. The mule 
which the leader was riding was slightly wounded, 
but this was the only mishap to the Americans. The 
Mexicans withdrew in safety to their own territory. 

The blood of the Texans was now up. " Revenge 
for the taking of San Antonio ! " was heard on every 
side. "Vengeance upon the Mexicans! Revenge!" 

Thus, in retaliation for the invasion of Texas under 
Wall, an expedition started for Mexico in 1843, com- 
manded by General Somervell. Captain Jack Hays 
was there with his Rangers, but the expedition went 
to pieces on the Rio Grande and most of the men came 
back, among them Captain Jack and many of his fol- 
lowers. Five captains, however, determined to go on, 
in the invasion of Mexico, — that is, if they could 
get men enough. Three hundred Texans immediately 
decided to fight : among this number, " Big Foot " 
Wallace and several other Rangers. Electing a cer- 
tain Captain Fisher to the chief command, they crossed 
the Rio Grande and encamped opposite the town of 
Mier. Its streets were soon to run red with blood. 



^^BIG FOOT" WALLACE 231 

The chief man of a Mexican town is called an al- 
cade, and, on the following morning, the Americans 
marched into the town and told the alcade that he 
must furnish them with provisions and with cloth- 
ing- 

" Yes, yes, Sefiors," said the Mexican official, bow- 
ing. " To-morrow the articles will be delivered to 
you, two miles below your camp." 

But the Texans did not believe in taking any 
chances. They brought the alcade along with them 
w'hen they went back to their camp, so as to be sure 
that the provisions w'ould really be delivered. They 
waited two full days and no goods were to be seen. 
They grew anxious and soon their spies made them 
more so, for these reported that General Ampudia had 
arrived in Mier with a large force of Mexican troops. 

" We will proceed to the town and give them bat- 
tle ! " cried out the Texan commander. 

By four o'clock in the afternoon the Americans had 
all crossed and were on their way to the little Mexican 
post. The spies were in front and first met the Mex- 
icans as they sallied out from Mier. But the Rangers 
knew how to shoot and Ampudia retreated before the 
Texan bullets. At dark the Mexicans again entered 
their stronghold and barricaded themselves. 

The Texans had their fighting blood up, and, in 
spite of the darkness, advanced to Alcantra Creek, east 
of the little town, where they halted for some time. 
The stream ran rapidly, so that it was difficult to find 
a crossing, but at last they all got over. As they 
scrambled up the bank, they were met by a hot fire, 



232 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

and the Mexican cavalry advanced against them. Five 
of the Rangers were cut off and captured. Others 
made narrow escapes, for the Mexicans now cam^e in 
close enough for hand to hand fighting, and sur- 
rounded many of the more daring. Several of the 
invaders were compelled to abandon their horses and 
make a run for it across fences and ditches. A Ranger 
called Sam Walker was caught by a powerful Mexican 
and was held down, while others tied him. One man 
named McMullins was seized by the legs as he was 
getting over a fence, but his boots pulled off and he 
made his escape. This was fortunate. 

" Big Foot '' Wallace was not among those first 
over the creek, and advanced with the main body, 
which now came on, driving the Mexicans into the 
town. The troops soon entered Mier and passed down 
a street leading to the public square, where the Mex- 
icans had planted cannon. While advancing rapidly, 
they were repeatedly fired upon, and a Ranger named 
Jones was killed. As he fell, he lurched against " Big 
Foot " Wallace, who had felt the wind from the bullet 
that laid him low. The Texans pressed on and soon 
arrived at a point near the cannon, where they received 
a charge of grape-shot, which made them seek shelter 
behind some buildings. It was now dark. It was also 
Christmas evening, but there were no peaceful revels 
in Mier that winter's day. 

The Texans had but one way to advance : by open- 
ing a passageway through the buildings so that they 
could get in the rear of the deadly cannon. They 
worked all night in digging a hole through the adobe 



'' BIG FOOT " WALLACE 233 

walls. When daylight came, they were within fifty 
yards of the death-dealing artillery. 

" Big Foot '^ Wallace was among those in the very 
forefront of battle. While engaged in tunnelling 
through the building he discovered a Mexican baby 
which had been abandoned during the hasty retreat 
of the occupants of the house upon the approach of 
the Texans. It set up a terrific squalling when the 
Americans approached it, so " Big Foot " carefully 
took it up, and, advancing to a wall enclosing a yard, 
climbed up and dropped it over. At the same time, he 
shouted out in Spanish : 

" Come and get the muchacho. Quick ! " 

He soon heard a woman's voice and supposed that 
the poor infant was being taken care of. 

Daylight dawned upon a scene of great activity. 
Port-holes had been opened in the various rooms into 
which the men had clambered, and the deadly crack 
of the rifles was soon heard, as the Texans began to 
fire at the artillerymen. The cannon were quickly 
silenced, for it was death for a Mexican to venture 
near them. Three attempts were made by the " Greas- 
ers " to storm and carry the Texan position, but each 
failed with fearful loss. The Mexicans, in fact, came 
on so thickly packed together that it was impossible 
to miss them. The bravest of all were the town 
guards, who wore black hats with white bands around 
them. They were nearly all killed. 

The Texans were fighting gamely and the Mex- 
icans were soon forced to abandon all of their artillery. 
Ropes were thrown around these instruments of war, 



234 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

from the corners of buildings, and the men from the 
South succeeded in dragging some of them away. 
" Big Foot " Wallace was doing a great deal of shoot- 
ing. He says that he loaded and fired his rifle fifteen 
times, always waited for a good chance, and had a 
bead upon a Mexican every time that he pulled the 
trigger. 

During the battle bugles sounded constantly, and it 
was reported that the Mexicans were being largely 
reinforced. The Texans, however, were undismayed 
at this report, and continued to load and fire theif 
rifles with such deadly effect that great confusion 
prevailed among their foes, who continually uttered 
cries of rage and pain, amidst a constant blast of 
bugles. They occupied the house tops, where they 
kept their bodies well hid, and fired from the gutters 
and from behind the chimneys. The American leader, 
himself, was severely wounded, while many of the gal- 
lant Texans lay bleeding in the narrow streets of the 
quaint, little Mexican town. 

A small guard had been left by the Rangers upon 
the other side of the creek. Just after daylight, upon 
the twenty-sixth of December, these attacked about 
sixty of the Mexican cavalry and routed them, but, 
seeing a large reinforcement approaching, they des- 
perately endeavored to join their comrades in the 
little town. Out of the nine men who made this des- 
perate charge, two succeeded ; four were killed ; and 
three were captured. 

The fortune of war was apparently going badly 
with the Mexicans, but a sudden turn of events placed 



^'Bia FOOT" WALLACE 235 

victory in their very hands. Captain Cameron had 
fortified himself and his men in the rear of a building 
occupied by Fisher and his support, where he had been 
exposed to a fearful fire. Upon the morning after 
Christmas day he entered the room occupied by his 
superior officer. 

" Send me reinforcements," he said, " for the 
bugles are blowing the charge and I am afraid that 
I will be annihilated." 

" I have no reinforcements," Fisher replied. " You 
will have to fight on as you are." 

As he ceased speaking a white flag was seen ap- 
proaching from the Mexican lines. With it was a 
Doctor Sinnickson — a Texan who had been recently 
captured by the Mexican troops. He had been ordered 
to tell the Rangers that there were one thousand seven 
hundred Mexican troops in the city, and that three 
hundred more were approaching from Monterey. 

" Ampudia says that it will be useless for you to 
resist," said the Doctor. " If you surrender, you will 
be treated like prisoners of war. If you resist, no 
quarter will be given! " 

The Texan leader looked gloomily before him. He 
was on foreign soil. He was hemmed in on every 
side by his enemies. His men were nearly all worn 
out The streets of Mier had run red with Mexican 
blood; and there was no chance to win. He was in 
favor of an honorable surrender. But some thought 
that they could make a sally from their barricaded 
position, and, by keeping together, could fight their 
way out of town and to the borders of the Rio Grande. 



236 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

These gathered around Cameron and begged him to 
take command; to make a rush; and to fight a way 
out. Great confusion prevailed. Some began to leave 
their positions and give their guns up to their enemies. 
Every few moments barricades would be torn away 
and men would march out and surrender. 

Cameron held on to his position until many had 
given themselves up. Then he saw that all hope was 
gone, and therefore turned to his men. 

" Boys," said he, " it is useless for us to continue 
the fight any longer. They are all gone except our- 
selves." 

His followers stood for a few moments watching 
the crowds of Mexicans, who were making a great 
demonstration. Their cavalry was charging up and 
down the streets, while many were carrying away 
the guns of the Texans who were collected upon the 
plaza. The citizens of the town were cheering for 
victory. 

*' I'll never give up," said " Big Foot " Wallace. 
" My relatives were massacred after they had sur- 
rendered at Goliad, and that is what the Mexicans 
will do to us." 

But Cameron wished to save the lives of his men 
and so took the lead. As he marched towards the 
Mexican line, his soldiers followed. When they 
emerged from their position into the street they were 
met by a strong detachment of Mexicans. The pain- 
ful work of surrendering their arms now commenced. 
" Big Foot " Wallace was the last man to give up 
his gun, his knife, and his pistol. 



*'Bia FOOT'' WALLACE 237 

The bloody battle of Mier was over. The Mexican 
loss had been heavy. With two thousand in the field, 
five hundred had been killed. The Texans had two 
hundred and sixty in the town, sixteen of whom were 
killed and thirty of whom were wounded. The Mex- 
icans lost forty artillerymen. The bodies of the slain 
Texans were dragged through the streets by the cav- 
alry, and were followed by crowds of yelling towns- 
folk. Four rows of dead Mexicans were laid out upon 
the plaza, where the priests said mass among them. 
It had been a fierce little battle. 

Now the troubles of the Texan Rangers really com- 
menced. The wounded were left at the blood-bespat- 
tered Mier in charge of the good Doctor Sinnickson, 
while the able-bodied Americans were marched 
towards Mexico City, in charge of General Ampudia. 
Everywhere they were met by jubilant Mexicans, who 
made grand demonstrations as they passed through 
the towns, blowing bugles, hallooing, and charging 
around upon their horses. The Texans were so 
starved that they became thin and haggard, while 
their shoes were worn completely through. The Mex- 
ican women pitied the half-fed Americans, some of 
whom were mere boys. At Monterey they came in 
with provisions and fed them. " Big Foot " Wallace 
— still wearing the trousers which he had captured — 
was thin but game. " Just give me a chance to es- 
cape," he muttered to a companion. " Then, — watch 
me go ! " 

Finally the Texans were placed in prison at the 
Hacienda Salado. Their numbers were increased by 



238 FAMOUS FRONTIEESMEN 

a few ranchers who had been captured in other raids. 
All were anxious to make the attempt to escape, and 
a plan was set on foot to rush the guards at sunrise 
on the eleventh day of February, 1843. At Monterey 
a similar plot had been hatched, but one of the Texan 
officers had disclosed it to the Mexicans, so the at- 
tempt had not been made. 

All was soon ready for the struggle for freedom. 
Captain Cameron gave the signal by throwing up his 
hat, and two scouts named Lyons and Brennan led 
the charge upon the guards. The Mexicans were 
taken completely by surprise, were disarmed at the 
door of the prison, and saw the Texans dash into the 
outer court of the building where about one hundred 
and fifty infantrymen were guarding the arms and 
boxes of cartridges. The Texans numbered two 
hundred. 

The frontiersmen rushed immediately upon the reg- 
ular soldiers, who levelled their muskets at them and 
fired in their very faces. The Texans were not armed, 
but they pressed onward, received the fire, and closed 
in upon the yellow-skinned custodians of the jail. It 
was too bold a dash for the Mexicans. They sur- 
rendered or fled after the first fire, but the Texans 
had other soldiers to face. 

A second company of infantry was stationed at the 
gate and a force of cavalry was outside. The gallant 
Texans did not hesitate for an instant. The desperate 
fellows rushed upon them, and a terrible fight ensued. 
Most of them had secured guns by now, and, when the 
second hand-to-hand fight took place, they were better 



" BIG FOOT " WALLACE 239 

prepared to force their way. " Big Foot " Wallace 
did not have a gun, so he rushed at a Mexican who 
had discharged his piece, and tried to disarm him. 
The fellow had a bayonet upon the end of his musket. 
He made a vicious thrust at the gaunt and lanky man 
from Texas. 

" Big Foot " seized the bayonet with his bare hands, 
and a hard struggle took place for the possession of 
it. As they bent to and fro, an unarmed prisoner 
came up behind, and, seizing the gun in the centre, 
wrested it from the Mexican. The soldier fell upon 
his knees, held up his hands, and called out loudly: 
" Sehors, have mercy ! Have mercy ! " 

" You can go," shouted " Big Foot " Wallace. 

The fight was now raging fiercely and the scout 
went into the thick of it, brandishing the musket which 
he had just captured, and doing awful execution with 
the bayonet. The Texans were getting nearer and 
nearer to the gate which opened upon the streets of 
the town. The Mexicans were uttering screams and 
yells of terror and surprise. The Rangers were among 
them with clubbed guns and were delivering blows to 
the right and left. The cavalry became terror-stricken 
and fled. The infantrymen at the gate began to throw 
down their arms and try to surrender. 

One Mexican lieutenant showed extraordinary bra- 
very. His name was Barragan, — a son of the com- 
mander of the Mexican force. Backing against a wall, 
he brandished his sword aloft, and refused to sur- 
render except to an officer. Six Texans surrounded 
him and thrust bayonets at his breast, but he kept his 



240 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

arm in motion and successfully parried every thrust. 
His sabre was moved about with such rapidity that 
it could hardly be seen. 

At this time " Big Foot " Wallace came up. 
" Here," cried a Texan, " you shoot this fellow, ' Big 
Foot.' He deserves death." 

But the lanky Texan shook his head. " No," said 
he. " This man deserves better treatment, for he is 
a brave soldier. I refuse to shoot him." 

" Let me see your Captain," cried the Mexican. 
" To him I will surrender my sword." 

Captain Cameron came up at once and the blade 
was turned over to him. With a proud look the Mex- 
ican stepped back and folded his arms. 

" You are a brave man," said Cameron. " You 
must be our prisoner, but you will not be injured." 

The Texans were now masters of the situation. 
They dictated terms to their enemies, one of which 
was that the wounded should be well taken care of. 
Meanwhile they prepared for instant flight, for they 
knew that a large force would soon be on their trail. 
Some of the Mexicans had tied their horses near by, 
and these were at once seized. 

By ten o'clock in the morning the Texans were all 
mounted and set out for the Rio Grande. It was 
touch and go with them. The chances for their get- 
ting away were very slight, for they did not know 
the country. 

" Big Foot " Wallace had secured a fine dun-col- 
ored mule which had belonged to a Mexican officer. 
The other Texans had good mounts, and by midnight 



'' BIG FOOT " WALLACE 241 

were fifty miles from the scene of their battle. A 
short halt was made and the horses were fed. The 
men slept two hours, and, early in the morning, left 
the main road so as to go around the city of Saltillo. 
They soon abandoned the road for the mountains. 
This was a fatal mistake, for it was a barren waste 
with no water and no food. 

For six days the gallant Texans pressed onward. 
They were soon perishing with thirst and starvation. 
So hungry were they that horses were killed and eaten. 
The Texans drank the blood of their mounts, and, 
leaving the remains of their slaughtered beasts for 
the coyotes and buzzards, they plunged into the arid, 
brown mountains in a vain endeavor to reach the Rio 
Grande. Many were on foot. Some became delirious 
and wandered away to die in lonely ravines. The 
party became badly scattered. " Big Foot " Wallace 
dried some mule meat in the sun and carried it along 
in a haversack. The frontiersmen toiled onward in 
the direction of the Rio Grande, but the Mexican cav- 
alry was hot upon their trail. 

Finally the yellow-skinned soldiers of the country 
began to come up with the half -dead Texans and to 
capture them. The majority of the invaders formed 
a hollow square and refused to surrender unless they 
could do so as prisoners of war. They were hollow- 
cheeked, sunken-eyed and half alive, yet they cried 
out that they would fight unless granted an honorable 
surrender. The Mexicans were well mounted and 
well fed. They had the Rangers at their mercy, yet 
they granted them what they asked for. Of one hun- 



242 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

dred and ninety-three Texans who had made their 
escape, five died of thirst and starvation, four got 
through to Texas, and three were never heard of 
again. 

The Texans were tied together with ropes and were 
marched in a single Hne to Saltillo. When they were 
brought into the city an order was received from 
Santa Anna to have them shot. The Mexican officer 
in charge of the prisoners refused to comply, and 
said that he would resign his commission before he 
would do so. The British consul also interfered, so 
the poor Texans were allowed to go on to Solado, 
where they had had their fierce battle for freedom. 
They were placed in irons. As they reached the town 
an order came from Santa Anna to have every tenth 
man shot. 

When the prisoners arrived at the jail from which 
they had so gloriously escaped, some Mexicans were 
seen digging a ditch. " Big Foot " Wallace nudged 
a companion. " That ditch is for us ! " said he. He 
was quite right. 

The Mexican officers now decided to let the pris- 
oners draw lots in order to see who should, and who 
should not be, shot. A large jar was filled with beans : 
as many beans as Texans. White and black beans 
were there. The white ones meant life ; the black, — 
death. There were nine white beans to one black. 

The Texans were now marched out from their jail 
and were foiTned in a long line. An officer soon ap- 
proached with the jar in his hand, in which were one 
hundred and fifty-nine white beans and seventeen black 



" BIG FOOT " WALLACE 243 

ones. The poor Texans were to pass through a fear- 
ful ordeal, but they were all gamblers with life, so 
they took it philosophically. Soldiers will rush to 
almost certain death in the excitement of battle, but 
to stand and decide one's fate by the drawing of a 
bean is worse than charging upon a spitting can- 
non. 

The Mexican officers were very anxious to kill Cap- 
tain Cameron, the gallant leader of the gaunt and 
half-starved Texans. They were therefore in great 
hopes that he would draw a black bean, and, for this 
reason, placed black beans on top, within the jar. He 
was also requested to draw first. 

But one of the captives — a fellow named " Bill " 
Wilson — saw the trick, and, as Cameron placed his 
hand in the jar, the Ranger called out : " Dip deep, 
Captain! Dip deep! " 

Cameron followed his advice, ran his fingers to the 
bottom, and pulled out a white bean. A look of sat- 
isfaction passed over the faces of the Texans, for they 
all loved the brave and unselfish Captain. The Mex- 
icans scowled as the drawing went rapidly on. 

All " dipped deep " and it was thus some time before 
a black bean was pulled forth. The Texans knew that 
some of them would be compelled to draw the black 
beans, but they grinned with delight as friend after 
friend extracted a white bean from the fateful jar. 
Most of the scouts showed the utmost coolness. One 
noted gambler from Austin, Texas, stepped up to the 
jar with a smile, saying: "Boys, this is the largest 
stake that I ever played for ! " When he drew out 



244 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

his hand a black bean was between thumb and fore- 
finger. Without changing the smile on his face, he 
muttered : " Just my luck ! Good-by to dear, old 
Texas! " 

One young fellow, almost a boy, drew a black bean, 
and giving one appealing look at his comrades, cried 
out: 

" Boys, avenge my death on these hounds ! " 

As the drawing progressed, some of the petty Mex- 
ican officers did all in their power to annoy the pris- 
oners. When one would draw a black bean they 
would express great sorrow, and would say : " Cheer 
up! Better luck next time!" although they knew 
that this was the last chance which the poor fellow 
would ever have. 

One witty Texan cried out, when his time came to 
draw: 

" Boys, I had rather draw for a Spanish horse and 
lose him! " He drew a white bean. 

The time approached for " Big Foot " Wallace to 
have his turn, for the men drew in alphabetical order, 
and W was well down upon the list. The boys were 
" dipping deep " and nearly all of the white beans had 
been dipped out. As " Big Foot " reached into the 
jar there were about an equal number of black beans 
and white. His hand was so large that he had diffi- 
culty in squeezing it down to the beans. 

The wily Ranger was under the impression that the 
black beans were a little larger than the white ones, 
so he scooped up two against the side of the vessel, 
and, getting them between his fingers, felt them with 



^^BIG FOOT" WALLACE 245 

great care. The Mexicans were watching him very 
closely. " Hurry up ! " cried one. " If you pull out 
two beans and one of them is a black one, you will 
have to take the black." 

" Big Foot " paid no attention to this remark. Life 
was now at stake. He deliberately felt the beans for 
some time and one seemed to be larger than the other. 
He let it go, drew out his hand, and breathed easier. 
He had drawn out a white bean. The next two men 
drew black. 

The black beans had now all been extracted, and 
the last three Texans did not draw. An officer turned 
up the jar and three white beans fell to the ground. 
The condemned men were then placed in a row and 
the firing squad was detailed and counted off. 

The irons were now taken from the unfortunate 
Texans and they were led away to execution, bidding 
their more fortunate companions good-by, as they 
moved off. Tears were running down the cheeks of 
the emaciated Texans as they bade their comrades a 
last adieu. A man named Whaling asked not to be 
blindfolded, saying that he wished to look the man 
in the face that shot him, and show them how a Texan 
could die. His request was refused. 

The bold and intrepid Texan Rangers were now 
ready for execution. All were blindfolded, a sharp 
order rang out, and the crash of muskets woke the 
echoes of the high adobe walls of the quaint, rambling 
prison. Without a sound the condemned Texans fell 
to the ground, all of them dead save one. This man 
— a fellow named Shephard — was wounded in the 



246 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

shoulder, although a Mexican musket was within a 
few feet of him when it had been fired. He feigned 
death, so that he was able to crawl off and escape to 
the mountains after the Mexicans had gone away. 
But the men of the south discovered that one of their 
victims had disappeared when they came to remove 
the bodies to the ditch which had been prepared for 
them. Scouts were sent out in every direction to hunt 
for the missing corpse. In ten days the Ranger was 
retaken and was shot. 

The survivors — in irons — were started on foot 
for the City of Mexico. They were half starved. 
They were derided, hooted at, and beaten by the pop- 
ulace. " Big Foot " Wallace suffered terribly, for 
the shackles were too small and cut deep into the flesh. 
His arms became badly swollen. 

When the poor prisoners arrived at San Louis 
Potosi, the Governor's wife came to look at the half- 
fed men and particularly noted the condition of Wal- 
lace. Her sympathies were at once aroused and she 
ordered the chains to be taken off. The officer who 
commanded the Mexican troops refused to do so, 
saying that only the Governor had authority to give 
such an order. 

" I am the Governor's wife," replied the woman. 
" I command you — in his name — to take off these 
terrible bands." 

To this the soldier consented. Sending for a black- 
smith, he had the shackles removed. The Governor's 
wife bathed the swollen arms of " Big Foot " Wallace 
with her own hands. 



^^BIG FOOT" WALLACE 247 

" You should be President of Mexico," said the 
half-dead Ranger. 

The prisoners were marched onward and soon ar- 
rived at an Indian village about eighteen miles from 
the City of Mexico. Here an order came from Santa 
Anna to shoot Captain Ewing Cameron. He had 
drawn a white bean, but the Mexican leader did not 
respect his former decision. The order was kept a 
secret from the balance of the prisoners out of fear 
that they would make a demonstration. That night 
Cameron was put in a room alone, with a separate 
guard. The rest of the prisoners suspected some 
treachery and were fearful of the fate of their brave 
leader. 

Next morning, when they were all marched out, 
each Texan filled his shirt full of rocks, determined 
to die for their captain if need be. 

"Why are you getting those rocks?" asked the 
guards. 

" It is for ballast," replied " Big Foot " Wallace. 
" We want to walk better." 

The Mexican soldiers made no attempt to take the 
stones away. They were probably afraid to do so, 
as they saw a desperate look upon the faces of the 
Rangers. As they marched on, the prisoners fre- 
quently inquired about Cameron and wanted to know 
if he were going to be shot. 

"No! No!" replied the Mexicans. "Go on! 
Your Captain will soon be with you ! " 

Somewhat reassured, the Rangers went forward, 
but, when they were about a mile from the town, they 



248 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

heard a platoon of soldiers fire their muskets in their 
rear. Some one cried out : " Brave Cameron has been 
massacred, boys ! A finer man never breathed ! " 

It was only too true. The patriotic Texan had met 
his death unflinchingly, — a victim of the treachery 
of the wily Santa Anna. 

Texas was then an independent Republic, for it had 
not yet been admitted into the Union. The United 
States had nothing to do with protecting the citizens 
of Texas, and the young Republic did not have forces 
enough to invade Mexico with an army, so as to res- 
cue these unfortunate men. The British consul, how- 
ever, had a good deal to say about the killing of Cam- 
eron, and had a personal interv^ievv with Santa Anna 
regarding it. He severely condemned this cruel pro- 
cedure. 

The Rangers were now closely confined in a mis- 
erable dungeon. Many went insane and died. 
Twenty-four succeeded in digging their way out, 
underneath the wall. Four scaled over the high 
enclosure and made their way back to Texas in safety. 
" Big Foot " Wallace, himself, had a fit of temporary 
insanity, but he recovered and managed to live through 
the months of terrible imprisonment. The Texans 
were so badly fed that they caught the rats which ran 
across the dungeon floor and ate them. Meanwhile 
Santa Anna's wife was continually pleading with her 
husband to liberate the miserable men. The stern 
dictator was greatly attached to her, and would grant 
almost anything that she asked. 

Friends of the Texans were using their best en- 



^^Bia FOOT" WALLACE 249 

deavors to have the prisoners released. Through the 
influence of his father and Governor McDowell of 
Virginia, " Big Foot " Wallace was finally set free. 
Upon the fifth day of August, 1844, he and four 
others were allowed to go, after an imprisonment of 
twenty-two months. Upon the same day the good 
wife of Santa Anna died, — regretted and beloved by 
every Texan who had worn the chains of Mexico. 
Soon afterwards an order came to set free the re- 
mainder of the Texans, for Santa Anna had prom- 
ised his wife — on her death-bed — that he would 
release them. To his honor be it said that he kept 
his promise. 

The intrepid " Big Foot " was, of course, delighted 
with his freedom. Taking ship at Vera Cruz, he soon 
reached New Orleans, and from there found his way 
back to his old cabin upon the Medina River. Many 
settlers had taken up ranches near by, so he was no 
longer alone. Still the Indians were very thick, and 
there were frequent brushes with the wild riders of 
the plains. 

One day — near Fort Inge — the pioneer discov- 
ered the track of the famous Big Foot Indian, where 
he and six followers had crossed the road. The old 
fellow's footprint was fourteen inches in length, and, 
as he had seen it several times before, the plainsman 
knew that there was trouble in the wind. When he 
reached the fort, he found a friend of his named West- 
fall. 

" That Big Foot redskin is around," said he. " This 
means horse stealing. If the old cuss does get your 



250 FAMOUS FRONTIEESMEN 

stock, just let me know and I will join you in a little 
Injun round-up." 

" All right," Westfall replied. " If I need you, 
I will let you know." 

As Wallace expected, in three or four days a Ranger 
came after him with the information that all of West- 
fall's horses had been stolen and that he was needed 
— very badly needed — to assist in their recapture. 
The Indians had ridden up the Nueces Canyon to its 
source, and then had crossed over to the headwaters 
of the South Llano, where they had gone into camp 
in a dense cedar grove. They thought that they had 
captured all of the white men's horses, and so would 
not be followed. As they had shot a small bear, they 
proceeded to cook it over a glowing fire. 

But the redskins did not remember that the white 
settlers had some very good mules, which they had 
not captured. On these the Texans followed the 
Indian trail, and soon located the redskin encampment 
by the smoke from the fire. Westfall rested, but did 
not cook anything. He was waiting for morning, 
before making the attack. 

As day dawned, the plainsman crept towards the 
Indian camp; accompanied by a youth named Pres- 
ton Polly. The other men — four in number — were 
told to come on when they heard his gun. At first 
the two whites descended into the bed of a gorge to 
a point opposite the camp of the famous Big Foot 
Indian. When nearing the smoke from the fire, a 
trail was discovered, which led down the hill to a pool 
of water fed by two deep springs. Below the pool 



"BIG FOOT" WALLACE 251 

was some rank, coarse grass. Westfall and the boy 
halted in this. 

Suddenly, as he peered beneath some bushes, West- 
fall saw an Indian coming towards the pool of water. 
He was mounted upon a pie-bald pony, and was a tall, 
well-formed brave. The plainsman lay still, scarcely 
daring to breathe. Silently he cocked his rifle and 
kept his eyes upon the savage. 

In a few moments the Indian came into full view. 
The heart of the plainsman beat quickly, for before 
him was the terrible Big Foot: his face all daubed 
up with vermilion paint, and eagle feathers in his 
scalp-lock. Motioning to the boy to remain absolutely 
quiet, Westfall slowly raised his rifle. At this moment 
the horse discovered the ambushed marksman and 
snorted. Big Foot turned quickly in order to see 
what was the matter and was for a moment sta- 
tionary. Bang! The burly chieftain — the scourge 
and terror of the border — pitched forward upon 
his face. He had been shot clean through the 
heart. 

True to their orders to approach when they heard 
the discharge of a rifle, the other men came up quickly, 
on the run. They charged up the hill, past the body 
of the dead chief, and into the camp of the red men. 
The Indians had gone, but the stolen horses were all 
in camp, except those ridden away by the redskins. 
The pioneers ate a good portion of the bear meat, 
w^hich was fat, juicy, and well roasted. 

When they examined the big chief, they found that 
he was indeed the giant of a man, for he was seven 



252 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

feet tall and weighed about three hundred pounds. 
His hand clutched the bridle-reins so firmly that his 
pony was unable to pull away from him. His hair 
was fully a yard in length and he had strong arms and 
legs. Upon his right knee was the mark of a bullet 
where he had been wounded some years before. The 
white men took his moccasins in order to prove that 
it was the real Big Foot; rounded up their horses; 
and were soon travelling back to their ranches. The 
great chief was buried without ceremony. 

" Big Foot " Wallace was shortly afterwards com- 
missioned by the Governor of Texas to raise a com- 
pany of Rangers for frontier defense. He was made 
Captain and appointed his friend Westfall a Lieuten- 
ant. They were soon to see plenty of stiff fight- 
ing. 

The hardest battle which they engaged in was on 
Todos Santos (All Saints) Creek, at a place called 
the Black Hills, sixteen miles from the town of Co- 
tulla. Eighty redskins were near this spot, and had 
camped near a waterhole, which the whites wished to 
get to, as they had been three days without water. 
The plainsmen had come through prickly pear and 
catclaw bushes only to find the Indians in their path. 
A stiff fight ensued. The Rangers circled around the 
savages for over an hour, and, after they had wounded 
a good many, charged the remainder. There was 
hand-to-hand fighting, but the red men were finally 
driven away, leaving twenty-two of their number dead 
upon the ground, among whom was their chief. " Big 
Foot " Wallace had dispatched him with a rifle, which 



'' BIG FOOT " WALLACE 253 

had been presented to him by Colonel James Bowie, 
from whom the bowie knife took its name. 

The redoubtable Wallace was one of the first to en- 
list in the Mexican War of 1846, and served under the 
famous Texan Jack Hays. The war, as you know, 
was brought on by a dispute over the boundary-line 
between Mexico and the United States, and, as many 
of the Rangers had old scores to settle with the Mexi- 
cans, they did good service in the campaign which 
ended in the capture of the City of Mexico. " Big 
Foot" Wallace was a second Lieutenant and acquitted 
himself nobly, particularly in the storming of Monte- 
rey, where he captured the very officer who had held 
the fatal bean-pot when the Texans were drawing for 
their lives at Solado. To his credit be it said that he 
let the fellow go. 

The famous plainsman never married, although he 
was once engaged to a belle of Austin, Texas. He 
was taken ill, shortly after pledging his troth, and had 
the misfortune to lose all of his hair. As soon as he 
was able to travel, he left town and hid himself in a 
cave in the mountains. Here he resided until his hair 
grew out again. Meanwhile his sweetheart had grown 
tired of waiting for him and had married another man. 
As she turned out to be a terrible scold, he was lucky. 

The old scout was the proud possessor of four dogs 
— half-bred specimens — which he prized very highly. 
He called them Rock, Ring, Speck and Bias, and was 
particularly fond of Rock, who was so well trained 
that he could follow an Indian by his scent. Wallace 
could always tell by the dog's actions when Indians 



254 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

were around, and, when night came, would feel per- 
fectly secure when his pets were on guard near by. 
The faithful animals would lie near him and would 
make no noise unless some wild man, or still wilder 
animal, approached. 

One morning Rock gave unmistakable signs that 
Indians were near by, so the scout took his gun in 
order to watch for the redskins. As none put in an 
appearance, he told his dogs to " go on and find." 
They rushed forward, yelping, and he soon heard 
them baying loudly. Coming to the spot, he saw an 
Indian down in a gully with the dogs around him. 
They were endeavoring to bite him, but he kept them 
from seizing him by throwing his blanket over their 
heads. Wallace raised his gun to fire, but, seeing that 
the poor redskin was afraid, he lowered his piece. 
Then, calling his pets to his side, he made signs to 
the Indian to come towards him. 

When the redskin approached, " Big Foot " saw 
that he was unarmed, save for a small knife which 
he held in his right hand. This was broken in two. 

" I have been a captive among the Comanches," 
said the red man. '' I have had nothing to kill game 
with and am nearly starved. Pray give me something 
to eat, Sefior. I broke my knife while trying to open 
a terrapin." 

The old scout's heart was touched by the sad spec- 
tacle before him. He took pity on the poor savage, 
and, leading him to his cabin, there gave him all that 
he could eat. He then turned him over to the Indian 
agent at San Antonio. This shows that, although 



'^Bia FOOT" WALLACE 255 

keen in pursuing hostile redskins, the famous Ranger 
could be also kind and gentle to the unfortunate. 

The fame of " Big Foot " Wallace was great among 
the pioneers of Texas ; so great, in fact, that when he 
appeared at the Dallas fair in 1898, hundreds crowded 
around him in order to take his hand and talk with 
the famous scout. All had heard of the giant plains- 
man and wanted to see him. Shortly after Christmas, 
of this year, he caught a heavy cold, and died on the 
seventh of January, 1899, '^^ his eighty-third year. 
To the very end his eyesight was so keen that he had 
no need of glasses, and he was apparently hale and 
hearty up to the last. Thus peacefully closed the 
career of one of the most adventurous men who ever 
hunted, fished, and fought the red men and Mexicans 
upon the wide plains of Texas. 

Although buried in Medina County, where he had 
built his first log cabin, shortly after his death, a bill 
was passed in the legislature, so that his remains 
were taken up and were deposited in the State ceme- 
tery at Austin. This was a city which he had helped 
to build. He had also assisted in the construction of 
the first well which had been sunk there. He had 
been among those who had killed the last herd of 
buffalo on the plains near by. 

Here — in the peace of the rolling plain — lies 
the last of the Great Captains of those gallant Ran- 
gers of the Texan prairie. His spirit slumbers where 
the coyote and Indian once follow^ed the dun-colored 
herds of buffalo, and where — in the blue azure of 
the cloudless sky — the wheeling vulture watched the 



256 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

canvas-covered wagons of the emigrant trains, which 
brought a people who were to construct great and 
populous cities, where was then only dust and deso- 
lation. 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS : 

FAMOUS TEXAN RANGER AND 

COMMANDER OF VALIANT 

BORDER FIGHTERS 

IT was the year 1840. Texas was still a wild 
country, but the white settlers were pressing for- 
ward to farm and to raise cattle and horses. The 
redskins did not like it. The Comanches were partic- 
ularly troublesome : they had been severely chastised 
by General Burleson and a Colonel John H. More, so 
they had sworn to revenge themselves upon the white- 
skinned invaders. With a large body of painted war- 
riors they made a raid upon the defenseless settlers of 
Texas. They sacked and burned the town of Linn- 
ville, partly destroyed Victoria, and commenced their 
retreat back to the mountains with a great deal of 
plunder. There were six hundred warriors and many 
squaws in the party of invasion. 

In going down from the mountains the Indians had 
kept between the rivers, where there were no settle- 
ments, and consequently they were not discovered 
until a short time before the attack upon Linnville. 
Runners were immediately sent to the various settle- 
ments, and men began to cut across the country in 
small squads from the valleys of the Colorado, the 
Guadalupe, and San Marcos. All of them were excited 

257 



258 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

and eager for revenge, none more so than General 
Burleson, who — at the head of a large company — 
was just starting for the scene of action. When about 
one hundred and fifty men had arrived — among them 
settlers from Guadalupe and San Marcos — they 
started for the Indians. 

Among those who came riding to the defense of 
the Texan frontier was a splendid looking, young fel- 
low, who was the perfect picture of manly vigor. 
Clad in blue shirt, buckskin chaparejos (large trousers 
slipping over those usually worn) and high-heeled 
boots, the youthful Texan was a noble example of 
health and agility. A broad sombrero was upon his 
head, while a cartridge-belt hung about his supple 
waist. His name was John Coffee Hays; better 
known as Jack Hays : the Ranger. 

This celebrated scout and Indian fighter had been 
named after General Coffee, who commanded a bri- 
gade in the army of General Jackson, at the battle of 
New Orleans. He had been born in Wilson County, 
Tennessee, in 1818, but had come to Texas in 1837, 
when but nineteen years of age. A surveyor by pro- 
fession, he had taken up a residence at San Antonio, 
where he was employed to measure lands upon the 
frontier. His life in the open had given him a hardy 
constitution, and no one could endure more hardships 
or privations than he. His talent as a commander 
and director of rough-and-ready fighters early devel- 
oped, and he was soon among the leaders of the bor- 
derers in Southwest Texas. 

Witli a wild hurrah, which spelled REVENGE, in 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 259 

large letters, the Texans started after the Indians, and, 
after travelling for nine miles upon their broad trail, 
caught up with them near a winding stream called 
Plum Creek. Two redskins had been left by the in- 
vaders as spies. They were upon a ridge and sat 
quietly upon their horses, watching the approach of the 
white men, until the Texans were almost within gun- 
shot. Both of these Indians had on tall hats which 
they had obtained at the looting of Linnville. You cin 
well imagine how comical they looked, for a black, 
stovepipe hat hardly becomes a wild rider of the plains. 
With his thick, long hair it never quite fits, and it 
certainly gives the red man a most grotesque appear- 
ance. 

One of the Texan Rangers had a long-range gun. 
Dismounting, he cried out : 

" Boys ! Just watch me make the redskins hump ! " 

At the crack of his rifle, the Indians wheeled their 
horses in order to run away. As they did so, both lost 
their plug hats. They moved swiftly to their com- 
rades, warning them of the approach of the Rangers, 
who spread out in a fan-shaped line, and kept on after 
the retreating braves. 

Now began a hot fight. The redskins were well 
armed and made a good showing, but nothing could 
withstand the terrible fire of the Texan rifles. After 
an hour of rapid shooting the Rangers charged with 
a wild, ear-splitting whoop. Jack Hays was well up 
in front of the line as they did so. The Indians broke 
and galloped away in a disorganized mass. 

Many of the redskins had on fine coats and boots 



260 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

which they had stolen during the raid. Some of 
them even carried umbrellas. Their spare horses and 
mules were packed with stolen goods, and these were 
driven ahead by the squaws, while the warriors fought 
the battle. After about a mile of fighting, the Co- 
manches rallied in large force and a sharp contest en- 
sued. But they could not stand the accurate rifle-fire 
from the Texans, and again fled in a scattered mass. 

The pursuit continued in hot haste, for some high 
mountains were in front, and the Rangers knew that 
if the red men once reached them it would be quite 
possible for them to get away. Many of the pack- 
animals now gave out, were abandoned, and fell into 
the hands of the Texans. A boggy branch was in the 
path of the retreating braves. Several of the Indian 
ponies stuck fast in the mire : all of the pack-animals 
which had not yet been captured, became hard aground 
in the mud. The hindmost Indians used some of the 
poor, bogged animals as pontoons, and passed over 
the marsh by jumping from body to body. The Tex- 
ans saw the predicament which the redskins were in 
and ran around the branch to the other side, where 
they cut ofif some of the Indians who were on foot, 
and killed them. The rest got away to the foot of 
the mountains, where the pursuit ended. 

The Rangers collected at the spot where the fight 
had been most severe and where most of the Indians 
had been dispatched. Here they camped for the 
night. Some of the Texans had been wounded, but 
none had been killed. Thus the battle of Plum Creek 
came to a glorious end. 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 261 

Jack Hays had certainly distinguished himself in 
this affair. He distinguished himself still more in 
1842, when San Antonio was captured by the Mexi- 
cans. Shortly after the battle of Plum Creek, Jack 
had been commissioned by General Houston to raise 
a force for protection of the frontier. He had no 
difficulty in doing this and was soon in command 
of several hundred Texan Rangers. They were 
wild fellows; ready for any emergency that might 
arise. 

The Mexicans had about fifteen hundred men in 
San Antonio. They were commanded by a General 
Wall. Jack Hays and his Rangers rode up near the 
town and " dared " the Mexicans to come out and 
fight. This they were quite willing to do, and soon 
marched from the adobe huts of San Antonio, crossed 
a creek in order to face the Texans, planted cannon, 
and the battle commenced. The Rangers acted upon 
the defensive, dodged the limbs of the pecan trees 
which the whistling bullets began to cut off, and 
prepared to meet the Mexicans when they should 
charge. 

General Wall, the Mexican leader, thought to rout 
the Texans with his artillery fire, but, as he failed 
to do this, he made preparations to charge them. 
Cavalry was dispatched across the creek in order to 
cut off retreat upon this side, and a band of Cherokee 
Indians were posted upon a branch below. The Mexi- 
cans believed that they would have an easy time of 
it, but they little thought with what kind of men they 
had to deal. Before them were expert riflemen : all 



262 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

keen shots and frontier fighters. They made a good 
account of themselves. 

The bugles sounded the charge and the Mexicans 
came on in fine style: They were massed together 
densely, and, for a time, it looked as if the Rangers 
would be annihilated by mere force of numbers. But 
the Texans lay down behind the creek bank, and 
poured such a volley of death and destruction into 
the ranks of the oncoming foe that their formation 
was broken up and they retreated in confusion and 
disorder to their batteries, posted upon elevated 
ground. A company of their cavalry also charged, 
but the horses would not come on before the sheet of 
lead which the Rangers pumped into them. Many 
lost their riders and ran among the infantrymen, 
knocking them down as they galloped wildly about. 
The Rangers cheered loudly, and Captain Jack Hays 
grinned from ear to ear. 

As the Mexicans gathered behind their cannon, 
about fifty Texans, under Captain Nicholas Dawson, 
came up on the right flank. They heard the sound 
of firing and hurried towards it, only to find that they 
had run into Wall's entire army. The Mexicans sur- 
rounded them immediately, and poured a destructive 
fire into their ranks. What could fifty do against 
one thousand? Two Texans made their escape. 
About twelve were captured. The rest fell before the 
bullets of the invaders. Dawson, himself, was one of 
the last to go down. 

After this, the Mexicans seemed to think that they 
had had sufficient fighting. They retired towards 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 263 

San Antonio, followed by the exultant Texans. Cap- 
tain Jack Hays with his Rangers fought the rear- 
guard near Hondo, but the pursuit was soon aban- 
doned and the frontiersmen returned to their homes. 
They had lost less than one hundred in killed and 
wounded. 

The Rangers retreated to a place called Somervell, 
and, not long afterwards, were ordered out to look 
for Indians, which were then pretty thick in the neigh- 
borhood, and were doing considerable damage. There 
were between thirty and forty men in this expedition, 
some of whom had just returned from Mexico, where 
they had participated in the battle of Mier. They 
moved off towards the northwest, struck the Medina 
River, and kept on up the stream towards the place 
where now stands the town of Bandera. Here they 
made camp, and next morning turned north towards 
the Bandera Pass, which they entered at about ten 
o'clock in the morning. 

The Comanches were waiting for them. They had 
discovered the approach of the Rangers as they came 
through the open country, and laid an ambush for 
them in the Pass. The famous Bandera Pass is some 
five hundred yards in length by one hundred and 
twenty-five in breadth. The red men were concealed 
among the rocks and gullies on both sides of the 
gorge, and they allowed Captain Jack Hays with his 
Texan Rangers to get about one-third of the way 
through before they commenced firing from both sides 
at once. The Rangers were riding three abreast, and, 
when this fusillade commenced, were thrown into 



264 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

momentary confusion, because of the frightened and 
wounded horses, which endeavored to wheel and run 
back. 

" Steady, boys, steady ! " exclaimed Captain Jack 
Hays. " Get down from your horses and tie them 
to the brush. We can whip these infernal redskins 
if you will only keep cool." 

The Comanches greatly outnumbered the Rangers. 
They were armed with rifles and with bows and ar- 
rows. Many came down the Pass and rode up to 
close quarters with the Rangers. Pistols were freely 
used and many hand-to-hand conflicts took place. The 
Comanche chief was struck down by a ball from the 
rifle of " Kit " Ackland, who, himself, was wounded 
a moment later. It was a furious affair, • — one of the 
most desperate Indian battles of the frontier. 

One of the scouts — a fellow named Galbreath — 
was wounded by an arrow which struck him above the 
pistol-belt, on the left side. It penetrated as far as 
the hip bone. The hardy frontiersman made no com- 
plaint, but drew the missile out at once, loaded his 
gun, and continued to fight on as if nothing had hap- 
pened. No one knew that he had been wounded until 
the worst part of the battle was over. 

The Indians fought with great fury, but they soon 
saw that they could not drive the Rangers back, and 
so withdrew to the north end of the Pass. Here they 
buried their dead chieftain ; killed all of their crip- 
pled horses, and held a scalp dance over the remains 
of their fallen comrades. Five Rangers had been 
killed and six had been wounded. The men under 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 265 

Jack Hays retreated to the south end of the Pass, 
where they buried those who had met their end, and 
attended to the wounded. Next morning they jogged 
along to San Antonio. The Indians did not pursue. 

The battle of Bandera Pass had taught the red men 
that the Rangers were not to be trifled with. Captain 
Jack was continually on the lookout for them, and 
soon had another experience which he had no occa- 
sion to forget. It happened about a year after the 
famous battle at the Pass. 

Fourteen Rangers — under Captain Jack — went 
upon a scout up the Neuces Canyon, with the expec- 
tation of meeting the Indians, who were then upon 
the war-path. After a long trip to the head of the 
river, without seeing any fresh Indian sign. Hays 
turned back down the canyon and camped. Next day 
the little party travelled onward, and — about noon — 
some one discovered a bee tree. 

"Hold on. Captain!" said a Ranger. "Just wait 
a minute and I'll chop all the honey out of that tree- 
top." 

" All right," replied Hays. " Sail in and let's see 
what you can do. Pull your bridles off, men. Let 
your ropes down and allow your horses to graze. We 
will rest here awhile and get some honey." 

The Ranger secured a small axe that was in the 
luggage on a pack-mule, and ascended the tree, for the 
purpose of chopping into the honey without cutting 
down this stout piece of timber. 

About this time a large band of Comanches were 
coming down the canyon on a raid, and, seeing the 



266 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

trail of the Rangers, they followed it. The fellow 
in the tree had a good view of the valley, and, to his 
startled vision appeared a great body of redskins. 

" Jerusalem, the Golden, Captain ! " he sang out. 
" Yonder come a thousand Indians ! Jerusalem ! " 

The Comanches were riding rapidly down the trail 
and made a good deal of dust. Hays sprang to his 
feet, as quick as a cat, and sang out his orders 
promptly, and to the point. 

" Come out of that tree, there! Men, put on your 
bridles ! Take up your ropes ! Be ready for them ! 
Be ready for them ! " 

All sprang to their horses, and were soon prepared 
to meet the onrush of the red men. 

The Rangers were armed with Colt's five-shooters, 
besides their rifles and a brace of holster single-shot 
pistols. Thus each man could fire nine shots. The 
Indians had never before come in conflict with scouts 
armed with the five-shooter, and they rode on ex- 
ultingly, for they greatly outnumbered the whites. 
Jack Hays never ran from Indians, and had never yet 
been defeated by them. 

The Comanches came forward, yelling loudly. 
They thought that it would be an easy matter to ride 
over the small squad of white men, who were drawn 
up around the old bee tree. Some of the scouts began 
to raise their guns, but Captain Jack cried out: 

" Now, boys, do not shoot too. quickly. Let the 
redskins come closer. Hit something when you do 
shoot. Stand your ground. We can whip them when 
we shoot. There is no doubt about that." 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 267 

The redskins thundered down upon the Rangers. 
When they were quite close, Captain Jack called: 

" Fire, and let every shot tell! " 

A sheet of flame burst from the rifles of the scouts, 
and so many ponies went down that the redskins di- 
vided to the right and left, discharging their arrows 
as they swept by. 

At this moment Captain Jack sprang into his sad- 
dle. 

" After them, men," he cried. " Give them no 
chance to turn on us ! Crowd them ! Powder-burn 
them!" 

Never was a band of redskins more surprised ; for 
they expected the Rangers to remain near the tree, 
and upon the defensive. With a wild whoop, the fol- 
lowers of Jack Hays galloped after the running 
braves, keeping up a perfect fusillade with their pis- 
tols. The Comanches were thunderstruck at this turn 
of affairs. Some tried in vain to turn their horses 
and make a stand, but such was the wild confusion 
of running horses, popping pistols, and yelling Ran- 
gers, that they abandoned the idea of a rally, and 
sought safety in furious flight. In endeavoring to 
dodge the terrible five-shooters, some dropped their 
bows and round shields. Some kept off the Rangers 
by thrusting at them with their long lances. 

The Indians ran for three miles before they could 
get away. The Rangers now rode back, well satisfied 
with the day's work, and were surprised to see the 
result of their charge. The ground was fairly black 
with dead redskins. Many years afterwards a 



268 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

friendly Delaware Indian, called " Bob," met the 
Comanche chieftain who led his warriors in this 
fight. 

" Who did you battle with upon this occasion? " he 
asked. 

" Ugh ! Jack Hays and his Rangers," gloomily re- 
plied the Comanche chief, shaking his head. " I 
never want to fight him again. Ugh ! Ugh ! His 
soldiers had a shot for every finger on their hands. 
I lost half of all my warriors. Ugh! Me never fight 
with him again." 

The Rangers soon afterwards had another tough 
little scrimmage with the Comanches. Fifteen of the 
Rangers were together at this time and they met an 
almost equal number of Indians, who were discovered 
at the foot of the mountains near the Frio River. The 
Indians were riding very tired horses, and the scouts 
thus gained upon them rapidly. The red men kept 
under cover, as much as possible, riding in ravines 
which had brushes and prickly pears around them, 
wherever they could do so. 

Captain Jack and his men arrived at a little dried-up 
creek called Ci Bolo (buffalo creek) where they came 
close to the Indians, who were travelling in a ravine 
which hid them from view. The Rangers heard their 
leggings scraping against the brush, so, for some dis- 
tance, they rode parallel with the savages, waiting 
for a chance to make a charge. The redskins could 
be heard talking to each other. 

Suddenly the Comanches left the ravine and rode 
out in open view, not more than thirty yards away. 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 269 

They apparently were not aware of the presence of 
the scouts until a sharp crack warned them of their 
danger. At the first discharge, a redskin fell from his 
horse. The others attempted to run back to cover, 
yelling and shooting at the Rangers as they did so. 
But the scouts were too speedy for them and cut them 
ofi*. One, however, seemed determined to get into the 
ravine. He disappeared into a thicket, at the edge of 
the gully, but a Ranger called Tom Galbraith dis- 
mounted, and, running to the edge of the thicket 
after the Indian had reached it, fired, and killed 
him. 

The rest of the savages endeavored to make their 
escape across the open country, which was filled with 
scattered bunches of the prickly pear, cactus, and cat- 
claw bushes. Some were on mules, and others on 
jaded horses. The Rangers rode hard after them and 
fired with deadly effect. The Indians had no guns — 
only bows and arrows — so they did but little dam- 
age. 

As the chase continued, one young Ranger called 
Stoke Holmes, who rode a fast little pony, singled out 
an Indian and cried out: 

" Watch me, Boys ! I'm going to rope him ! " 

While he was running along and was swinging his 
lariat, the pony attempted to jump a large bunch of 
prickly pears. He reared so high that his rider lost 
his seat in the saddle and fell backwards into the ter- 
rible cactus. Some of his comrades saw the mishap. 
They quickly shot the redskin and then came rapidly 
to his rescue, as he was unable to get up. The valiant 



270 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

scout was in a sad plight. His body had thousands 
of pear thorns in it, and his clothing was pinned to 
him on all sides. He was in agonies of pain. Pulling 
him away from the grip of the cactus, the Rangers 
stripped off all of his clothing, extracted all of the 
large thorns, and endeavored to pull out the small 
ones. But this was an impossibility, as there were 
thousands of small needle-like prickers in his flesh. 
With a sharp knife the Ranger shaved them close to 
the skin so that his clothing would not irritate his 
body by rubbing against them. The bold young 
fellow was hardly able to ride for several days there- 
after. As for the rest of the redskins, — only three 
escaped. 

Not many months later Captain Hays and his men 
were close upon a band of Indians, who had been 
located by his scouts in a bunch of cedars. The Ran- 
gers had not eaten all day, because they had been hot 
in pursuit. 

" Dismount, men," cried the captain. " Stay here a 
few minutes and partake of the cold bread and beef 
in your saddle-bags. But, boys, by no means raise 
any smoke, or the redskins will surely see it, and will 
know that the Rangers are upon their trail." 

" You're right, Captain ! " cried many. " We 
are half famished." 

Captain Hays always had a few Mexicans with him, 
as they were good guides and trailers, but, upon this 
occasion, they lighted their cigarettes after eating and 
dropped the hot ashes into a pile of leaves. Smoke 
was soon curling above the tree-tops. 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 271 

" Curse it, boys ! " cried Captain Hays. " Did I 
not tell you not to set fire to anything. Put that out, 
immediately ! " 

Some of the Rangers began to stamp upon the 
glowing fire. Hays was so angry that he struck the 
Mexicans with his quirt. 

"Mount! Mount!" cried he. "We must go 
quickly after the redskins, as I fear that they have 
seen the tell-tale fire and have decamped." 

A furious run was now made for the tepees of the 
hostiles, which were a mile away. It was as the 
knowing Captain had anticipated. The Indians saw 
the smoke and knew that the Rangers were on their 
trail. They had fled, leaving many things in their 
camp, which were seized by the troopers. The 
Comanches had gotten safely away. 

In 1844 Captain Hays and his men had a hard 
fight, — one of his hardest, in fact. It was near the 
Pedernales River. Upon this occasion he had gone 
out with fourteen men, about eighty miles northwest 
from San Antonio, for the purpose of finding out the 
position of the redskins and the probable location of 
their camp. 

As the river came in view, about fifteen Indians were 
discovered. They soon saw the Rangers. Riding 
towards them, they shook their clenched fists and 
seemed to be desirous of having a fight. As the 
Rangers rode forward they retreated and endeavored 
to lead them towards a ridge which was covered with 
thick underbrush. 

" Oh, no," said Captain Hays, " I am too well 



272 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

acquainted with your wiles to move on. I know that 
you have an ambush laid for me and my men." 

It was hard to keep the Rangers from advancing to 
the attack. 

" Go around the redskins to the second ridge," cried 
the knowing Captain. " We can thus get the Indians 
in the rear." 

The Rangers were posted upon a long hillock, sep- 
arated from the Indian position by a deep ravine. 
They were not here long before the redskins discov- 
ered who was before them, and, as they knew Captain 
Jack full well, decided to give up trying to catch him 
by stratagem. They now showed themselves to the 
number of seventy-five and cried out, in pigeon Eng- 
lish : 

" Come on, white men ! Ugh ! Come on ! We 
get your scalps soon ! " 

"I'll meet you right away!" answered Captain 
Hays. 

He started down the hill immediately, followed by 
his entire command. He moved slowly, and, when 
the bottom of the ravine had been reached, turned — 
raced ahead at full speed — and came up in the rear 
of the Indians. While they had their eyes glued to 
the front, eagerly awaiting the advance from that 
direction, they were charged in the rear by the 
Rangers. The first fire threw them into instant con- 
fusion. 

Yells, war-whoops, and shrill screams rent the air. 
The redskins scattered like quail, but, seeing the 
superiority of their own force, soon rallied. 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 273 

" Draw your five-shooters, men," cried the Captain 
of the Rangers. " We must meet the charge of the 
Comanches as we have always met them." 

The redskins were surrounding the Texans, so the 
Rangers were formed in a circle, fronting outwards. 
They were still mounted on their horses, and, for sev- 
eral minutes maintained that position without firing a 
shot. The Indians came on, yelping, and were soon 
near enough to throw their lances at the Texan fron- 
tiersmen. 

Crash! 

A spitting volley came from the five-shooters of 
the scouts and many a red man fell to the sod. Again 
a volley rang out and the Comanches ceased to ad- 
vance, for the fire of the Rangers was fearfully accu- 
rate. The redskins fell back, but they were not de- 
feated, and — in a few moments — again came on to 
the attack. The fight continued for an hour. Twice 
the Rangers charged and retreated to their first posi- 
tion. Their loads were now exhausted. The Co- 
manche chief was rallying his henchmen for one more 
assault. Twenty-five of his painted warriors were 
prostrate upon the prairie. 

The situation was critical for the Rangers, as many 
were badly wounded. Several had been killed. 

Captain Hays, who was in the centre of the circle, 
now saw that their only chance was to kill the Indian 
chief. 

" Have any of you men a loaded rifle ? " he 
asked. 

" I have," answered a scout called Gillespie. 



274 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" Then dismount, my boy," said the Ranger Cap- 
tain, " and make sure work of that chief." 

Gillespie was a brave man. He had been badly 
wounded by an Indian spear which had gone clean 
through his body. He was hardly able to sit his 
horse, but, slipping to the ground, took careful aim 
and fired. As his rifle cracked, the chief fell head- 
long from his horse. 

It is a strange thing, but Indians always lose heart 
when their leader is slain. Wailing loudly, the Co- 
manches now left the field, pursued by a portion of 
the Texans. They carried their chieftain safely away, 
in spite of the fact that they were pressed very closely 
by the Rangers. Thirty Indians lay dead upon the 
battle-ground, while only two of the Texan frontiers- 
men had been killed. Five, however, were badly 
wounded ; chief among whom was Gillespie, who had 
really ended the fight. 

Captain Hays and his men went back to San An- 
tonio well satisfied with the day's work. A month later 
he had another desperate encounter with the Co- 
manches. 

With twenty of his men the gallant Ranger was on 
a scout near the " Enchanted Rock." This was a de- 
pression in a hill, which was conical in shape, and was 
doubtless the crater of an extinct volcano. A dozen 
or more men could hide in this place and put up a 
stout defense against a great number of enemies, as 
the ascent was steep and rugged. Not far from the 
bottom of this curious hillock the Rangers were at- 
tacked by a large force of Comanches. 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 275 

When the first shot was fired, Captain Hays was 
some distance from his men, looking about in order 
to see whether or not he could discover the where- 
abouts of the Indians. As he turned to run towards 
the " Enchanted Rock," he was cut off and was closely 
pursued by a number of red warriors. 

The nervy Captain Jack dashed madly up the side 
of the hill and entrenched himself in the extinct crater. 
He was determined to make the best fight that he 
could, and to " sell out " as dearly as possible. The 
redskins arrived upon the summit shortly after he 
had entrenched, and, after surrounding the famous 
Captain of Rangers, set up a most hideous howling. 

" There, Captain Jack," said one. " Ugh ! We 
get Big Smoky Stick this time. Ugh! We get scalp 
this time! Ugh! Ugh!" 

But Captain Jack was game. Each time that the 
muzzle of his rifle would appear over the rim of the 
crater the warriors would dodge backwards, knowing 
that to face his unerring aim was sure death. 

The Indians grew bolder and made a charge. Hays 
fired his rifle, killing a redskin at the discharge, — 
then shot his five-shooter at the yelping braves. Each 
bullet found a victim, so the redskins withdrew, which 
gave the gallant Captain a chance to reload. Again 
they came on, but again they were met with the same 
cool bravery. Howling dismally, they again drew 
away and made ready for another attack. 

Suddenly wild cheering sounded from below the 
Ranger Captain. Shots came thick and fast. Wild 
yells arose. His comrades were coming to his rescue. 



276 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

The Rangers had heard the rifle-fire upon the top 
of the hill and knew that their Captain was sur- 
rounded. So they were fighting their way up to him, 
in spite of the odds. Soon they came cheering and 
yelHng to the edge of the crater, itself, to be greeted 
by the cool remark : 

" Boys, I'm sure glad to see you ! I was nearly 
all in ! " 

When the Comanches saw that the Big Chief had 
been rescued they retreated down the steep sides of 
the " Enchanted Rock." They met their comrades, 
who had been badly cut up, and, deciding that the 
Rangers were too good for them, withdrew. Wild 
cheers welled from the crater of " Enchanted Rock," 
and loud were the hurrahs for Texas Jack, the gallant 
and intrepid Ranger. 

The war with Mexico found Captain Jack Hays 
ready and willing to march against the hated " Greas- 
ers." He and his famous Rangers fought in nearly 
all of the desperate battles of the campaign. Many of 
his faithful friends and companions fell before the 
leaden missiles of the foe. But Captain Jack had a 
charmed life : he came through unscathed, returned 
to his beloved Texas, and then moved to California, 
where he was elected Sheriff of San Francisco County. 
He was very efficient as an officer and left an excellent 
record behind him. 

In i860 he had his last Indian fight. The Piute 
Indians in the state of Nevada declared war upon the 
whites, in that year, and committed many depreda- 
tions. They massacred Major Ormsby and his men 



CAPTAIN JACK HAYS 277 

and spread terror broadcast. At this time there were 
rich mines in Virginia City, and among the many men 
who were employed there was an old Texan Ranger, 
Captain Edward Storey, a man of great personal 
courage. He was also very popular among the people. 

" This Indian fighting has to stop, immediately," 
said the old fellow, his fighting blood again boiling. 

At once a company was raised, called the Virginia 
Rifles. Colonel Jack Hays heard of it, and immedi- 
ately came over from California in order to enlist. 
With him were several other bold spirits who were 
eager for the excitement of a brush with the redskins. 
They marched to Pyramid Lake, not far from the 
present town of Reno, and there met the exultant 
braves, — about one thousand strong. They were 
flushed with their recent victory over Major Ormsby 
and his men, and thought that they could easily defeat 
the whites. 

In this they were mistaken. The red men were in 
the hills and had the advantage of position, but the 
scouts attacked with vigor and a fierce battle ensued. 
Colonel Jack Hays was in the thick of the fight and 
conducted himself in a manner quite worthy of his 
name and fame. A complete victory was won by the 
Virginia Rangers, but at a fearful loss. Among those 
slain was brave Captain Storey, whose body was rolled 
up in a blanket and conveyed to Virginia City on the 
back of a pack-horse. Colonel Hays rode with the 
remains of his old friend of the wild days on the 
Texan plains, then returned to California. 

Here the famous Indian fighter died in 1883. In 



278 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

his later years he became very wealthy and owned a 
beautiful home near Piedmont, California. He never 
lived in Texas again, but occasionally went there, in 
order to visit old friends and relatives. He was 
buried with a simple ceremony, and thus ended the 
career of one of the most deadly shots and courageous 
men who ever rode a mustang upon the plains of the 
West. His spirit still lives in the hearts of the Texans. 




From " My Sixty Years on the Plains " — Courtesy of the Forest and Stream Publishing Co. 
" UNCLE BILL " HAMILTON. 



BILL HAMILTON: 

FAMOUS TRAPPER, TRADER, AND INDIAN 
FIGHTER 

THE mountaineers were pushing, adventurous 
and fearless men who thought nothing of 
laying down their lives in the service of a 
friend. They usually carried very little with them. 
A few ponies transported their meagre supplies, and, 
with only enough provisions to last them a few days, 
they often set out to journey through a vast wilder- 
ness. Naturally they were very self-reliant. With 
only a gun or two they took desperate risks in a coun- 
try filled with their red enemies. They overcame 
every difficulty with a dash and courage that is ama- 
zing. " Uncle Bill " Hamilton was a typical example 
of one of these men. 

From the time that he was twenty years of age this 
famous old fellow spent his life on the plains. He 
became a sign-talker and was able to converse with all 
the Indian tribes which were met with. Sign-talking 
will soon be a lost art, but in the old days all of the 
red men used the same signs, although they spoke 
different languages. He was also a trapper, trader, 
and pathfinder. He blazed many a trail which was to 
lead the frontiersmen to rich agricultural regions. He 

279 



280 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

set an example of courage and perseverance that will 
leave a bright memory in the hearts of all. 

In the spring of 1842, when twenty years of age, 
young Bill was living in St. Louis, Missouri ; but 
chills and fever were gradually undermining his con- 
stitution, so his doctor ordered a change of climate. 
Consequently his father made arrangements with a 
party of hunters and trappers, who were in St. Louis 
for a few days, to let his son accompany them on 
their next trip, which would last a year. The party 
consisted of eight " free " traders, with " Bill " Will- 
iams and a man named Perkins, as leaders. These two 
scouts had had fifteen years' experience on the plains 
among Indians, and had a wide reputation for fear- 
less courage and daring exploits. 

The trappers soon reached Independence, Missouri, 
— where they sold their wagons and rigged up a 
complete pack outfit, as the expedition would go 
through a country in which wagons could not travel. 
Young Bill Hamilton still had on city clothes, and 
when the old fur traders saw this, they began to laugh 
and poke fun at him. 

" What be you going to do with that city cuss in 
th' mountains?" said one. "Why, he'll lose himself 
in a hour's time and walk down the throat of some 
grizzly bear." 

Young Bill did not like this remark at all, and hur- 
rying to a frontier store he traded his " store clothes " 
for two suits of the finest buckskin. When he ap- 
peared in camp with these fine togs on one of the 
mountaineers said : 



BILL HAMILTON 281 

" Williams, that boy o' yourn will make a fine old 
pioneer and mountaineer, if he catches on at this rate." 

The youthful plainsman heard it and smiled, for he 
had felt very badly before. 

The party pushed onward and reached Salt Creek. 
Camp had just been made when a small herd of buf- 
falo appeared in the distance and made directly for 
the little band. Williams gave orders to corral all 
the stock, for he feared that this was the game of 
some plains Indians, and he was not far from being 
correct. The stock had barely been secured when the 
bufifalo thundered by, followed by thirty painted 
Kiowa warriors. They were wild and savage. 

The trappers had placed their packs in a triangle, 
and crouched behind them. This made an excellent 
breastwork. Each man was armed with a rifle, two 
pistols, a tomahawk, and a large knife, called a 
" tooth-picker." Two of the men had bows and ar- 
rows with which they were experts. 

The redskins rode up insolently ; examined the out- 
fit, and demanded pay for passing through their coun- 
try. 

" You can neither touch our traps nor will we give 
you pay for riding through your country," said Will- 
iams. " This is Pawnee country and you are Kiowas." 

The Indians seemed to be ill pleased and looked 
vindictively at the sturdy men of the plains. The 
leader was given some tobacco. He was not a chief, 
but a young brave with two feathers stuck in his scalp- 
lock. After receiving this gift the savages withdrew, 
saying : " Ugh ! Ugh ! We come again ! " 



282 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

The trapper kept close watch during the night, ex- 
pecting that the Indians would attempt to steal some 
of the stock and attack the camp. But nothing oc- 
cured. Many outfits have come to grief by put- 
ting confidence in the red man, who always covets 
the belongings of the paleface. Old and expe- 
rienced mountain men like these left nothing to 
chance. 

Pretty soon the trappers reached the camp of some 
Cheyennes and there unpacked their goods in order 
to trade. Young Bill accompanied the chief's son, 
Swift Runner, through the village, who introduced 
him to all the leading men. 

" There will be a large hunting party starting out 
to-morrow after buffalo," said he, " and if you wish 
to go along I will furnish you with a good hunting 
horse." 

" I shall be delighted to go," cried young Bill, so 
next morning found him riding across the prairie with 
about fifty Indians and twenty squaws. 

After travelling for nearly ten miles the scouts dis- 
covered a herd and reported its location to the hunting 
chief. This leader was thoroughly acquainted with 
the topography of the country and led the redskins 
upon a long detour, so as to get on the leeward side 
of the herd. As soon as a favorable position had 
been reached the Indians stripped to their breech- 
clouts and advanced, leading their running horses as 
they did so. 

The chief now divided the hunters into two divi- 
sions, in order to get the buffalo into a small area. 



BILL HAMILTON 283 

They rode to within a quarter of a mile of the herd 
and then the word was given to " Sail in ! " 

In an instant the wild array of naked Indians 
started for the herd, sending forth yell after yell, and 
riding like demons in their eagerness to bring down 
the first buffalo. For this is quite a feat and is com- 
mented upon by the whole village. 

Swift Runner, himself, had the fastest horse in the 
party and brought down the first buffalo, much to the 
chagrin of many a young brave — who coveted the 
honor — for it would bring him smiles from his lady 
love. Young Bill's pony loped along with willingness, 
and Swift Runner pointed out a fat cow for him to 
dispose of. In a few jumps he was alongside of the 
great lumbering brute, and fired into her side. As 
luck would have it, he broke her back and she dropped 
to the sod. Swift Runner yelled hilariously at this 
success, but it was a very careless shot, and, had he 
missed, the cow might have made things ugly for him. 

There was a great yelling and shooting upon every 
hand and several riderless ponies were mixed in with 
the buffalo. Many prairie-dog holes were the cause 
of this, for when the ponies stepped into them their 
riders were, of course, thrown over their heads. 
Ponies are usually sure-footed beasts, but when in 
a chase like this, where over a thousand buffalo are 
tearing over the prairie and kicking up a big lot of 
dust, it makes it impossible for the animals to see the 
holes. 

Young Bill brought down four of the huge brown 
bison and received great praise from the Indians for 



284 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

his skill. They used arrows in their killing and shot 
behind the shoulder, bringing the buffalo to his knees. 
Another arrow would be sent deep enough to penetrate 
the lungs of the beast and it would then be soon over 
with him. 

For three-quarters of a mile the prairie was dotted 
with the dead buffalo. They were soon butchered; 
the ponies were packed with three hundred pounds of 
the choicest meat, and the caravan started for home. 
Several Indians who had been thrown limped quite 
badly, but no one was seriously injured. At sundown 
the village was reached, a feast was prepared, and all 
joined in the affair with the greatest good will and 
friendship. Young Bill was warmly congratulated 
upon his success, and this was well, for if a white 
man fails to acquit himself creditably with the red- 
skins it casts a reflection upon all the whites. 

The Indians made pemmican and " dupuyer " from 
the buffalo. The first is manufactured in the follow- 
ing manner : the choicest portions of the buffalo meat 
are selected, sliced, and cut into flakes. They are then 
dried. All of the marrow, from the centre of the 
bones, is put into one pile with the sweetest of the tal- 
low. These ingredients are mixed together and stirred 
around in a pot which is hung over a slow fire. The 
combination is then cooled. Some red men put berries 
into the mixture, which harden and give a sweetish 
taste. The mountaineers and trappers — when sugar 
was scarce — always made their pemmican in this 
manner. The Indian squaws pulverized the meat by 
beating it upon a flat rock, and then placed it in skin- 



BILL HAMILTON 285 

bags for future use. It is estimated that one pound 
of pemmican is equal to about five pounds of beef. 

A fat substance which lies along the buffalo's back- 
bone, next to the hide, is known as " dupuyer." It 
is about as thick as the hand of a trapper and runs 
from the shoulder-blade to the last rib. In breadth 
it measures between seven to eleven inches. The In- 
dians and mountaineers would strip away this sub- 
stance — dip it in hot grease for thirty seconds — 
and then hang it to the inside poles of a lodge. A 
fire would be lighted beneath it and it would be al- 
lowed to dry and smoke for ten or twelve hours. 
" Dupuyer " was considered to be a great delicacy, 
for it was very nourishing. Besides this it was tender 
and sweet. The trappers loved this food and would 
pay a dollar a pound for it, while the Indians always 
took dried meat and " dupuyer " along with them upon 
their expeditions. 

When Williams and his party moved on. Swift Run- 
ner presented young Bill with a pony which he had 
ridden in the hunt, and the squaws gave him a half 
a dozen pairs of beautifully embroidered moccasins. 

A few days later the party reached the South Platte 
River and there found a Sioux village. Big Thunder 
was the chief, and he requested the trappers to camp 
there, as his people wanted to trade with them. The 
Sioux were then a friendly tribe and treated the 
white men in a cordial manner. 

Just before dawn — upon the day following — 
a wild yelping awoke the entire village. The war- 
riors ran out only to find that the Pawnees — the 



286 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

mortal enemies of the Sioux — had run off about one 
hundred head of ponies which had been turned out to 
graze only a short distance from camp. Among this 
number were two mules and three ponies belonging 
to the white men. 

As soon as this news was received there was a 
great yelling and shouting, while fifty young war- 
riors hastened to saddle their best ponies. Young Bill 
Hamilton was with them, and, under the leadership 
of Young Thunder, they started after the redskins. 
The trail of the fugitives was soon struck and followed 
at a brisk gallop, and, after going about eight miles, 
it was evident that the Pawnees were but a short dis- 
tance in advance. Passing over a divide, a cloud of 
dust could be plainly seen about two miles in advance. 

The Pawnees rode hard, but they were soon in 
view. There were twelve in the party. As Young 
Thunder gave a war-whoop, the ponies bounded for- 
ward and carried their owners towards the fugitives 
as if shot out of the mouth of a cannon. The Paw- 
nees heard the chief's yell, and, leaving the herd of 
stolen stock, made for a neighboring cottonwood 
grove. While Bill Hamilton rode onward, a bullet 
whistled by his ear. The savages fired several more 
shots but their lead all went wide of its mark. 

" Don't you intend to charge the grove and en- 
deavor to capture the Pawnee warriors ? " said Bill to 
the Sioux chief. 

Young Thunder smiled and shook his head. 

" No, no," he answered. " 'Nough to get back our 
ponies." 



BILL HAMILTON 287 

The young scout thoug-ht that the Indians were not 
such terrible fighters as some writers would have them 
appear, and this impression never changed, although 
he occasionally met a few that knew no fear. 

Two of the Pawnee braves had been killed in this 
little skirmish, and the warriors rode back to their 
village carrying the fresh scalps tied on the end of 
long sticks. The whole village turned out to greet 
them, yelling like furies. Pandemonium reigned all 
night, but when old trapper Williams heard that young 
Bill had ridden in so close to the timber, he said : 

" I shall have to keep you at home next time, if I 
expect to return you to your parents. You are a 
young fool to approach close to timber where hostile 
Indians are concealed." 

" Three of our ponies were in the bunch of cap- 
tured horses," answered the young scout. " I did 
not wish to return without them. As for the Sioux, 
I consider them a lot of cowards." 

The Pawnees had not acted with good judgment in 
trying to drive off fully one hundred head of horses, 
so near daylight. For they should have known that 
the Sioux warriors would be after them, mounted 
upon their best war-ponies. 

The trappers soon bade good-by to their kind hosts 
and continued on towards the Little Wind River, 
crossing a rugged and romantic country, where lofty, 
sky-piercing peaks ascended into the banks of drifting 
clouds. To the northwest were the Wind River Moun- 
tains ; to the eastward was the Big Horn Range, — 
the home of the buffalo, elk, antelope, deer, and 



288 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

grizzly bear. It was a hunter's paradise, where many 
different tribes of Indians met on their annual hunt, 
and often battled for the right to the soil. Hostile 
war-parties were even now quite numerous in the 
mountains. At Little Wind River, Evans and Russell 
picked up a moccasin, showing that the redskins were 
quite near. 

Beaver and otter seemed to be plentiful, so the men 
set their traps. At night they slept with arms at their 
sides, ready for instant action, and a close guard was 
stationed beyond camp, as it was almost certain that 
the Indians would discover them and would run off 
with their stock. This was the most dangerous coun- 
try on the plains and was constantly invaded by war- 
parties of Blackfeet, Bloods, Piegans, and Crows. 
All had to be constantly upon the alert to avoid losing 
their horses and their scalps. 

About four o'clock one morning two rifle reports 
brought every man to his feet. Yell after yell sounded 
from the darkness, and shot after shot came whistling 
into the camp. In an instant the trappers were up 
and about — their rifles replying to this fusillade. 
Evans and Russell (two of the most experienced 
scouts) killed a couple of the Indians with their first 
shots, for dawn was just coming, and two black bodies 
were seen to leap into the air and then roll down a 
hill upon which they had been crouching. The sav- 
ages were shooting arrows and old Hudson Bay flint- 
locks which made a big flash when discharged. As 
the scouts aimed at these flaming jets, they must have 
done considerable damage, for the 'Indians fell back. 



BILL HAMILTON 289 

They continued to send shots into camp until day 
dawned. 

" Let's charge the critters ! " shouted young Bill 
Hamilton. 

" Not on your life, boy! " shouted trapper Williams. 
" It's most dangerous to run into such a number of 
unknown redskins at night." 

So the young man desisted. 

Just before daylight the Indians attempted to re- 
cover their slain comrades, by crawling up to them 
in the grass. The scouts, however, were up to such 
tactics and added one more to keep company with 
two of the red men already sent to the Happy Hunt- 
ing Grounds. At this, the redskins gave a yell of 
deep despair. Then they filed slowly away, sending 
a few parting shots at the trappers, just to show that 
they were still in good fighting order. 

Five of the trappers' ponies had been badly 
wounded, and Williams was so enraged at the in- 
jury which had been done that he was determined to 
punish the Indians still further. Leaving two men in 
camp, he ordered the rest to follow him on the fresh 
trail of the early morning marauders, which led up 
a small stream. The scouts galloped eagerly forward, 
and, coming to a rise, were soon within plain view 
of the red men, who were hurrying along, trying to 
get two of their wounded comrades to the protection 
of a grove. 

" Dash on to the right ! " shouted Williams. " Head 
the redskins off from that bunch of trees! " 

The red men saw in a moment that they would 



290 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

be cut off from the grove, and they made for a patch 
of willows and stunted box-elders just below them. 
There were eleven of them in all and the trappers cer- 
tainly had them cornered. 

It was about a hundred yards to the Indians, and 
a scout named Dockett tried a shot at them. The red 
men returned fire, wounding him in the thigh. There 
were a quantity of boulders near by, and Williams 
ordered his men to roll them up to the brow of the 
hill, in order to form breastworks. Four of the trap- 
pers were left behind this, while Williams told Noble 
and young Bill Hamilton to follow him to the grove 
without letting the Indians notice that they had de- 
camped. 

In the grove the trappers concealed themselves, and 
the wisdom of their move was quite clear. The In- 
dians realized that they would all be shot down if 
they remained in their present position, for the men 
behind the brow of the hill now had their range. Six 
of them made a dash for the cluster of trees. 

When the scurrying red men were within one hun- 
dred yards of the timber, Williams gave orders to 
shoot. The trappers took careful aim, and, at the 
flash of their rifles, three of the red men fell face 
down. The other three gave a yell of despair and 
ran up the hill. The trappers dashed after them, and 
the Indians became panic-stricken when they saw the 
mounted white men debouch from the thick wood- 
land. 

Williams raced onward, dashed right at the Indians, 
and, although shot at, managed to bring both of the 



BILL HAMILTON 291 

redskins to the ground. Now all three had been 
slain, and the revenge which the trappers had wished 
for had been fully satisfied. The redskins were Black- 
feet, the most thieving class of wild riders of the 
plains. 

There were still five Indians in the willows. Many 
men would have let them go. But not so with Will- 
iams. He was considered the hardest man on the 
plains to down in a fight with the Indians, for he was 
never known to quit when once started. It was to 
be a battle to the bitter end. 

" There are five Indians down there who shot at 
and insulted us," said he. " They shall have what 
they would have given us had they been successful in 
their attack." Here he turned to young Hamilton. 
" Boy," said he, " never let an Indian escape who has 
once attacked you! I want you to go with me. We 
will walk to the gulch and approach from below." 

But the trappers held their leader in too high esti- 
mation to allow him to thus recklessly expose him- 
self. 

" Your orders are going to be disobeyed for once 
in your life," said they. " We cannot afford to lose 
you." 

Williams smiled. 

" Evans and I will undertake the job," cried scout 
Russell. " You cover us with your fire." 

In a second — and before Williams could answer 
— they bounded into the gulch below. Both were 
quick of foot and had been in so many desperate bat- 
tles that they understood the danger of approaching 



292 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

prostrate redskins, for a wounded Indian is an uncer- 
tain animal. 

The rest of the scouts kept up a steady fire until 
Evans and Russell were seen to be close to the willows. 
Then they ceased, as the two scouts bounded forward, 
yelling like Indians. The other trappers also rushed 
down, and although one of the braves had his arrow 
in his bow — all ready to shoot — he never pulled it. 
In a very short time it was all over. 

The Indians had now been annihilated, and among 
their effects were found two fine bridles, ammunition, 
knives, and other articles belonging to trappers. It 
was evident that some small body of white traders 
had been surprised by these Blackfeet and put out 
of the way forever. So ended this stiff little skir- 
mish. 

The trappers now kept on their way, set many 
beaver traps, caught a great many of these animals; 
and traded with several bands of friendly redskins. 
The men were all fine shots and often received praise 
from people for their expertness in fire-arms, but no 
more than they merited, for an American mountain- 
eer had no equal on the globe. It was necessary that 
the trappers should be very expert, for they carried 
their lives in their hands, and were liable to come in 
contact with roving war-parties at any moment. To 
be taken prisoner meant torture and death, and it was 
therefore impossible for an Indian to capture either 
a scout or a trapper. They knew what would follow. 

Young Hamilton thoroughly enjoyed the life and 
soon became one of the most proficient talkers in sign 



BILL HAMILTON 293 

language on the plains. The trappers reached Fort 
Bridger, where were many Shoshones, who asked the 
youthful scout many questions by signs, all of which 
he answered correctly. This astonished even the older 
trappers, many of whom thought that he had been 
raised by some tribe. 

Williams now left the men of the plains in order 
to go to Santa Fe on business, but promised to be 
back in the spring and organize a new party for a 
two-year expedition. Before he left he took young 
Hamilton aside and gave him advice in many matters. 
He looked upon him as a son, and few fathers ever 
gave their children better counsel. The trappers de- 
cided to trap near Salt Lake, and the Bear and Malade 
Rivers, during the fall. 

When they had proceeded for some distance they 
were met by a party of Indians, who spoke the Sho- 
shone tongue, and who informed them that they had 
to pay for going through their country. Perkins — 
who was now leader of the trappers — tried to make 
peace with them, but without success. He made the 
Indians keep away, but they continued to make signs, 
meaning " dogs," — which the white men well under- 
stood. The trappers held their rifles ready for any 
emergency. 

Perkins cautioned his men to have patience, and, 
filling his pipe, offered it to the chief, who refused it 
with contempt, saying: "Big chief never smokes 
with white dogs." 

The head trapper's patience was now almost ex- 
hausted and he told the chief in plain language to 



294 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" get out." His men prepared for action, as he spoke, 
so the redskins mounted their ponies and departed 
towards the South. As they rode off, they cast all 
kinds of insults at the white men, both with signs and 
in spoken language. It was certain that they would 
soon follow the trappers and then there would be a 
big fight. 

That night every precaution was taken to guard 
against a surprise. Two guards were put on duty, 
to be relieved at midnight, and a well fortified posi- 
tion was chosen for camp. Perkins said that it was 
customary for the Utahs to attack just before day- 
light, for this is the time that the redskins expect to 
find the whites fast asleep. This is what occurred in 
the present instance. 

A little before daylight two or three wolf howls 
were he^rd by the guards, who immediately notified 
Perkins. Soon all the men were up, their packs being 
placed in a semi-circle as a breastwork. Twenty of 
the best horses were saddled and tied in a thicket, to 
protect them from Indian bullets and arrows. Defeat 
meant death, so the trappers looked stolidly before 
them, fully prepared for the worst, if it were to come. 

The first wolf howls were soon followed by others, 
coming from nearer points and in a semi-circle. In- 
dians are experts in imitating the cries of owls, wolves 
and coyotes. So adept are they in the art that it is 
difficult to distinguish them from the calls of real 
birds and beasts. Few trappers can successfully imi- 
tate these animals, although many endeavor to do so. 

It was not long before the attack commenced. Just 



BILL HAMILTON 295 

as day began to dawn the wolf howls ceased and the 
trappers knew that the crisis was at hand. The In- 
dians had crept to within one hundred yards of camp 
before they gave the war-whoop. Then they came 
on — fully one hundred strong — yelping wildly. The 
trappers were all ready with their rifles and pistols. 
Three were armed with double-barrelled shot-guns, 
loaded with half -ounce balls and fine buck-shot. 

The Indians raced to within fifty yards before a 
single trapper fired, — then all began to shoot. The 
redskins halted. At this the plainsmen began with 
their six-shooters, one in each hand, for — as a result 
of long continued practice — they could shoot equally 
well with either arm. These mountaineers had to be 
experts in the use of both rifle and pistol, for inability 
to fire with accuracy meant instant death upon many 
an occasion. 

The red men were much surprised to receive so 
many shots from but twenty men. They became panic- 
stricken, for they had not supposed that the trappers 
possessed two pistols each — twelve shots apiece after 
their rifles had been discharged. They had expected 
to rush right over the breastworks, before the rifles 
could be re-loaded. They retreated — assisting many 
of their wounded. An arrow went through young 
Bill Hamilton's cap. 

The redskins had received a repulse which they had 
not expected, and retreated to their villages, taking 
their dead and wounded with them. The chief. Old 
Bear, had been slain, as well as many of their bravest 
warriors. This tribe had frequently robbed small 



296 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

parties of trappers, killing them many times and al- 
ways treating them with great cruelty. After this 
fight they usually gave well-organized bodies of trap- 
pers the " go by." 

The plainsmen finished their work without being 
further molested, and then moved on to Bear River. 
In the spring, trapper Williams returned from Santa 
Fe, and made a proposition to the men that he should 
form a company of forty-three and make a two-years' 
trip. This was agreed upon, and the expedition soon 
started, on the 25th of Marcli, 1843. The trappers 
were divided into four parties, which collected furs in 
common ; that is, each man had an equal share in 
all furs caught by his own party. For mutual pro- 
tection they always pitched their tents and lodges 
together. 

They soon passed through the country inhabited by 
the Bannock Indians. These were troublesome and 
had many a brush with the stout men of the plains. 
But the trappers came through every escapade with- 
out much loss. The region in which they soon found 
themselves was rich with beaver and otter; large 
quantities of which were caught. It was a grandly 
beautiful country — a paradise for all kinds of game. 
Bear were particularly plentiful, and many a grizzly 
and cinnamon fell before the accurate aim of the men 
in buckskin. 

" Young Bill " Hamilton could not be called 
" Young Bill " any more, because he was a seasoned 
trapper, and his many experiences with wild men and 
wild beasts had made it possible for him to hold his 



BILL HAMILTON 297 

own with the most experienced men of the party. 
The trappers made a wide detour, first going far 
North, then travelling South to the Carson River in 
Nevada, where they lost one of their best and most 
skilled men, — a fellow named Crawford. They were 
in the Pah Ute country and could tell very readily 
that the Indians were most unfriendly. In spite of 
this they set their beaver traps, for they saw that these 
animals were thick. 

As Crawford did not return to camp one evening 
it was decided to make a search for him. Dockett, 
who was an outside trapper (or one who had his traps 
furthest from camp), had seen the missing man set- 
ting his traps at a bend in the river, at some distance 
away. To this point the trappers hurried, and, scout- 
ing in some cottonwood groves, in order to make sure 
that there was no ambush, they went in and soon dis- 
covered where one of their number had been at work. 
Indian tracks were thick near by. 

They saw where a horse had stood, and, going to 
a thick bunch of willows, found the ground saturated 
with blood. The Indians had lain hidden in this wil- 
low patch, knowing that the trapper would come in 
the morning to look after his traps. They had thrown 
Crawford into the river, which was four feet deep. 
He could be easily seen and was soon pulled to dry 
land. Crawford was a handsome Texan, six feet tall, 
brave, kind, generous, and well-educated. Five of 
his traps were found, and four dead beaver. The 
Indians had stolen what was left, including his rifle, 
two pistols, and a horse. The trappers were soon back 



298 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

in camp with the body of their comrade, and, when 
the men saw Crawford, it was plain that death would 
be the penalty to any of the redskins who had way- 
laid him. A grave was dug — the trapper was laid 
to rest in his blankets — and no monument was placed 
above to mark the spot, for fear that some wandering 
redskin would dig up the remains of this fearless man 
of the plains. 

The Pah Utes were soon to be encountered, for 
at two in the afternoon the pickets signalled : " In- 
dians coming on horseback." The stock was corralled 
and the scouts stood ready for action. The pickets 
now rode in and reported sixty Indians, who made 
their appearance upon a ridge, about three hundred 
yards from camp. 

" Come out and fight ! Come out and fight ! " yelled 
the redskins. 

Crawford's death had cut the scouts down to thirty- 
eight, but that did not worry these hardy souls. It 
was impossible to keep the men back, so eager were 
they to avenge the death of their comrade. Leaving 
three trappers to take care of camp, the others mounted 
and started away in the direction of the Indians. 

When the redskins saw them coming they gave yell 
after yell, thinking, no doubt, that this would paralyze 
the white men with fear. Then they divided and 
charged from two sides. The trappers let them get 
to within one hundred yards, when they halted and 
brought their rifles into play. Dropping these upon 
the ground, they charged with pistols in hand. Fully 
twenty-five Indians fell before their accurate shots. 



BILL HAMILTON 299 

This bewildered the savages, and, before they could 
recover, the scouts were in their midst. 

One tall redskin was mounted on Crawford's horse. 
He tried to get away, but delayed entirely too long. 
He was caught, knocked prostrate to the ground, and 
the horse, rifle, and pistols of the dead scout were 
recovered. Forty-three ponies were captured. Very 
few of the Pah Utes made their escape. Poor Craw- 
ford, you see, was thus revenged in full. 

Two horses which the trappers rode were killed. 
A few of the scouts received arrow wounds, but none 
were serious. The secret of the frontiersmen's suc- 
cess was in making every shot count in the first volley. 
This bewildered the Indians, and, before they could 
collect their thoughts, the plainsmen were among them. 
The scouts were an effective body, and were as well 
drilled in the use of both rifle and pistol as the sol- 
diers of any nation. Their horses, too, were trained 
to stand fire and to be quick in evolutions. The war- 
whoops and yells of the Indians simply made them 
prick up their ears and look unconcerned. 

After this affair the little party received little mo- 
lestation from the red men. At a council it was de- 
cided to move, as it was not known how many war- 
riors these Indians could muster, and it was not safe 
for one or two men to go any distance from camp 
after furs. The hardy adventurers travelled to the 
Laramie River, where twenty-five of them determined 
to go back to St. Louis and to take their furs with 
them. The original thirteen all returned to the Far 
West; Williams going to Santa Fe, accompanied by 



300 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Perkins and six otliers. It was a sad parting for all, 
particularly for Bill Hamilton, who had grown to 
love his comrades like brothers. 

Bill was now a seasoned trapper, and the rest of 
his career on the plains was marked by many hazard- 
ous adventures with the redskins. He went to Cali- 
fornia, during the gold excitement, was in the famous 
Modoc war of 1856, where he belonged to the " Buck- 
skin Rangers," and was employed as a scout in the 
uprising of the Sioux in 1876, which was so disastrous 
to General Custer and his command. He was among 
those who followed Crazy Horse to his end, and 
finally resigned from the service of the Government to 
resume the free and independent life of a trapper. At 
eighty-two years of age he was living a peaceful and 
contented life at Columbus, Montana, where — as he 
says in his biography — "I am thankful that I can 
still enjoy and appreciate the wonderful beauties of 
nature." 

A true plainsman, a great shot, a nervy fighter, — 
such was " Uncle Bill " Hamilton. At the present 
time there is no wild and adventurous West to create 
such characters as this, for bad Indians have passed 
away forever. 



UNCLE JOB WITHERSPOON: 

AND HIS EXCITING ADVENTURES WITH 
THE BLACKFEET 

NO more famous plainsman ever lived upon the 
Wyoming prairies than Uncle Job Wither- 
spoon : a veteran of many an Indian battle : 
of several tussles with grizzly bears ; and of frequent 
brushes with desperadoes and bad men who had taken 
to the hills in order to escape jail. Born about 1830, 
the old fellow was still hale and hearty in the year 
1898, when he was piloting a number of young men 
through the intricacies of the Rocky Mountains; a 
region which he had lived in for many years. 

" Well, youngsters," said the veteran trapper to the 
party of young fellows who were upon an amateur 
hunting excursion, " when you've toted traps and pel- 
tries, and fit Injuns as long as I have, you'll sartainly 
have considerable more experience than you have 
now." 

The old fellow was sitting with his back against a 
tree trunk, near the Grosventre River, and before him, 
in a semi-circle, lay five young men. All looked up at 
him eagerly, for they were in a country which had 
once been peopled by hostile redskins. It was now 
safe, for the savage tribesmen were upon reservations. 
Still, the air of romance lay over the beautiful land 

301 



302 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

and added a zest to their expedition, which would 
have been absent had they been in a more unhistoric 
country. 

"Ha! Ha! boys !" continued Uncle Job. "You 
think that you'll have a mighty nice time out on the 
trapping grounds, and I ain't going to say as how 
you won't. But, take my word for it, ye'll wish your- 
selves back in th' settlements many a time afore you'll 
get there. What with fighting and hiding from Injuns 
and them pesky grizzlies, and livin' sometimes fer 
weeks together on nothin' but pine cones an' such 
trash as luck happened to throw in my way to keep 
body an' soul together, my time used to be anything 
but 'specially agreeable, until I got used to it. Then 
I found it barely endurable. It's a hard life, any- 
way, boys ! " 

" My, my, Uncle Job," said one of the youngsters, 
" why, then, do you go back to the plains? " 

The trapper laughed. 

" Well, there, boys, yer have me, anyhow," he an- 
swered. " Ter be right down honest with yer, / likes 
it. It's a fact, as sure as dry prairie grass will burn, 
and I wouldn't live a whole month in Saint Lewy ( St. 
Louis) fer all th' money there if I could not be al- 
lowed to spend th' balance of my time in th' mountain 
country. I'm used to it, youngsters, and city air is 
rank poison to me; besides, I'd spoil fer th' want of 
a fight with some of th' red varmints of Blackfeet, 
Pawnees, and Poncas; for, my boys, that's the best 
part of the life on th' plains. And now," continued 
the old trapper, " I'll tell yer about a fight, and a long 



UNCLE JOB WITHERSPOON 303 

battle it was, too, which I had with a party of them 
cowardly Blackfeet over on the Sweet-water River. 
It was something over twenty years ago, and one fall 
when I was trapping on the head-waters of the 
Columbia." 

The boys drew closer and gazed at the old fellow 
with wide open eyes. 

" We had about a dozen greenhorns at our post, 
just like yourselves. We were only a few months 
from the settlements and these fellows hadn't yet got 
toughened to the kind of a life we had to lead. Some 
of 'em was about dyin' with th' ager, and we hadn't 
a dose of medicine, or even a blessed drop of spirits 
to save 'em with. So, as I knew every inch of th' 
country from th' Pacific to Saint Lewy, I was ordered 
by th' head trader of th' post to go to Fort Laramie 
and bring back a supply of calomel. Queen Anne pow- 
ders, an' sich truck fer our sick men." 

" You had your nerve with you," interrupted one 
of the boys. 

" Always had plenty of that," continued Uncle Job. 
" The distance was about six hundred miles over the 
mountains. We had come to the western side of the 
range the spring before, by way of the Sweet-water 
Valley Pass, and I concluded to take that route again 
toward Laramie. 

" Wall, things went well with me for some time. 
Arter I got over the main ridge I kept along the south 
side of th' Wind River Mountain and stopped one day 
on th' Green River, in order to make me a new pair 
of moccasins. The rough travelling over th' hills had 



304 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

worn mine out and left me barefoot. While I was 
stitching away at my shoes I remembered a cache (a 
supply of provisions hidden or stowed away until it 
should be convenient to remove them) which a party 
of us had made the spring before about a day's travel 
out of my regular route. It was on the North Branch 
of the Sweet-water River. We had started from the 
head of the Platte on our way to the Columbia, with 
a small drove of pack-mules loaded with provisions 
for the new post, and when on the South Branch one 
of th' creeturs give out and we had to cache the cargo. 
It was a package of jerked venison and a sack of 
flour, with a small bag of rice for th' sick, when we 
had 'em, and a five gallon keg of hard cider. It is a 
common practice with us trappers to cache our pro- 
visions when we know they will be safe for some 
future journey that way. 

" Wall, as I worked at my moccasins, all at once I 
got to be mighty thirsty, and a vision of that five 
gallon keg of delicious cider began to come into my 
head. Says I to myself, says I : * Job, wouldn't you 
like to have a little taste of that sweet beverage, 'spe- 
cially when nobody at the post would be either any 
wiser or any poorer for it ? ' I reckoned that I would. 
So I finished sewing up my buckskin, an' started next 
morning, bright an' early, for the cache. Now, as 
I told yew all, it was one day's journey from my 
route, and it would take me another day to put me 
on the right course again. That, you know, would 
use up two days that I certainly ought to give to my 
sick comrades at the post. But I argued this way to 



UNCLE JOB WITHERSPOON 305 

myself : * Now, I'm pesky thirsty fer a drink of that 
sweet cider. I'm actually feelin' bad fer th' want uv 
it. If I gratify my natural longing I'll certainly feel 
better arter it, and I can then tread out so much faster 
that I shall more'n make up for th' lost time.' And 
that's the way that I reconciled it to my conscience. 

"Wall, I reached the South Branch in th' middle 
of the afternoon, and going down the stream a little 
ways from where I struck it, I found the cave where 
we had cached our provisions. It was a pretty large 
one, too. I crawled into the narrow mouth of it and 
drew my rifle in arter me ; and, as soon as my eyes 
got kinder used tew th' dim light, right up there in 
the corner I found everything all right. There was 
that jolly little red keg of cider, and it seemed to 
actually laugh all over at the sight of an old friend. 
And well it might, for it had been shut up there in 
the dark for more'n six months with nothing but the 
flour, the rice, and the dried meat to keep it com- 
pany. 

" I pulled out my sharp-pointed bowie knife and 
tapped the head of th' cider barrel in no time. But 
just as I raised the little fellow to get a taste of him 
I heard the tramping of horses' feet outside, and the 
howlin' of twenty or thirty infernal Blackfeet. Gee 
Whillikins ! I had ter drop th' keg before a bit of th' 
amber liquid had wet my thirsty lips. Well was it 
that I did so, for in that moment the entrance of the 
place was darkened by a rascally Injun who had been 
fool enough to follow me. Boys! I was pKntr^ 
skeered ! 



306 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" What was I to do? I raised my rifle and fired at 
Mr. Redskin, who dropped dead upon the ground, 
uttering a wild war-whoop as he fell. His comrades 
crept into the mouth of the cave, seized him by the 
feet, and gave a terrible yell when they found that 
he'd been wiped out of existence. While they were 
tugging away at the old fellow I busied myself in re- 
loading my rifle in order to get ready for the next 
visitor. Although th' pesky redskins kept up a terrible 
hullabaloo they didn't attempt to crawl into the cave 
any more. 

" Thinks I, * Now's your time, old boy, if you ever 
hope to have any refreshment.' So, raising the little 
cask of cider, I took a good, long, glorious drink. I 
tell you, boys, that was delicious, for my throat was 
all parched and dry from alkali dust. It braced me 
right up and I'd hardly had it down my throat when 
I felt that I was a host in myself and could handle, 
single-handed, all of the Blackfeet west of the Mis- 
sissippi. 

" Arter a few moments three or four rifles were 
cautiously poked into the hole, and were fired at 
random into the cave toward me. I ducked to one 
side, and let 'em peg away. They were only using 
up their ammunition, an' th' sooner they got rid of 
that the better it was for me. 

" Next they sent a shower of arrows through the 
opening, but with no better effect than with their 
bullets. In the meanwhile I had found a little hole 
through the rocks just large enough for the barrel of 
my gun, and, watching a good chance, when the var- 



UNCLE JOB WITHERSPOON 307 

mints were thick about the mouth, I took good aim 
and popped away at them. By the Jumping Jingoes! 
boys, but I sent half an ounce of lead through the 
bodies of no less than three of them at once. At this 
th' Injuns fell back, yelling vengeance, an' I took 
another refreshing pull at th' cider. ' For,' says I to 
myself, * Job, now it's your treat, and here's to as 
good luck the next shot.' But th' varmints didn't try 
th' shooting game any more, as they found that this 
was a game which I could play as well as they, them- 
selves. Boys ! I held all the trump cards ! They kept 
losing their hands, while I continued to hold my 
own. 

" Arter they had been quiet fer a considerable time 
I poked my head out of the cave and peeped down the 
streami, where I could see the cowardly wolves gather- 
ing armsful of dry sticks and grass, which I at once 
knew that they intended to bring up to the cavern 
and smoke me out. I hadn't thought of this before, 
and, thinks I, the rascals have got me now, sure. I 
can fight Injuns so long as my ammunition holds out, 
but when it comes to a fire and smoke I ain't a match 
nohow for them fellers, shut up as I be in these here 
limestone rocks. 

" Presently th' savages came back again to th' 
mouth of th' cave in such a direction that I couldn't 
bring old Kill-Deer Ho bear upon 'em, and piling up 
their combustibles they set fire to 'em. The wind 
happened to be blowing directly into th' cave, and, 
in a few moments, a nasty smudge began to suffocate 
me. I had to crawl farther and farther into the place 



308 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

as the smoke followed me; and I could hear the In- 
juns pilin' on the grass and wood all the time. They 
found that they couldn't get me out by any other 
means, and were now endeavorin' to choke me to 
death by their horrid smoke. Fortunately, as I 
shrank away from it, I saw a little streak of daylight 
ahead of me. It was a crevice in the rock through 
which the rays of the setting sun were streaming, as 
much as to say : ' Be of good heart. Job ; they cannot 
smoke you out as long as you choose to breathe 
through this nice little air hole.' 

" I ran to the crevice, and laid down, breathing the 
pure air, and laughing at the redskins, who were yell- 
ing and dancing for joy at the cute trick they thought 
that they were playing upon me. Luck was certainly 
with me, boys, for through the crevice that admitted 
the light and the air I discovered a nice little stream 
trickling away, while a tiny pool of fresh water had 
formed upon the floor of the cavern. Now, thought I, 
if I only had the provisions with me, I could last until 
the Injuns got tired and had to go away. So, holding 
my breath, I crawled back again into the smoke, and 
catcliing hold of the little keg of cider in one hand, 
and a package of jerked meat in the other, I went 
back to my breathing-hole and had a comfortable 
supper. The red fiends outside were screeching and 
yelling like mad men. 

" Arter I had satisfied my hunger, and had taken 
another pull at the delicious apple juice, I laid down 
for a nap, for I knew that the Injuns wouldn'J- trouble 
me while they kept up their smoke. 



UNCLE JOB WITHERSPOON 309 

" Wall, boys, I tell you that I had a pretty good 
night's rest, considerin' that I had tew keep one eye 
open. In the morning, after the smoke had settled, 
I sat quietly at the side of the opening, expectin' Mr. 
Injun to creep through arter my scalp. They thought 
that I had given up the ghost, and were all ready to 
make a speedy end of me. But they had reckoned 
without their host, for no sooner did a Blackfoot 
show his head than pop! a little slug of lead from 
Mister Kill-Deer made him remember that I was still 
breathing. 

" Them Injuns, I reckon, thought that they had 
holed Old Nick himself, for they was plum surprised 
when they heard the bark of my trusty old rifle. 
When they saw another of their number fall, they 
even forgot to yell. They found that smoke couldn't 
kill the old man, and so they tried another plan. 
Their game was to starve me out. But here, boys, I 
held the trump cards again. The fact was, they 
hadn't the least idea that the cave had been used as 
a cache; and when they saw me take to it they thought 
that I had discovered them and was hiding away 
from them there. The old boys didn't realize that I 
had a store of good things piled up and ready for use. 

" I could understand their gibberish well enough to 
learn that they had determined to stand guard over 
me until I should be forced to yield to starvation, at 
least. But I had fully two months' provisions in the 
cave and that would hold out for some time. I deter- 
mined, therefore, to pass the time as agreeably as 
possible. 



310 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" I could hear that parties of Injuns rode away 
from the place every morning, and others came to 
take their place. They stood guard over me by turns. 
At length, after four days, when they supposed that 
I was about starved out to such a degree that I was 
no longer dangerous to approach, a redskin poked 
his head into the opening and began to crawl cau- 
tiously into the cave. I was waiting for the fel- 
low. 

" Boys ! I made a spring like a panther. It was 
his life or mine, and my long knife did the work. 
Presently another followed, and him I served as I 
had the first one. Arter about a half an hour an- 
other Injun put his head down into the hole and 
called to his comrades. At this moment, I levelled 
my rifle at him and let him have it. That morn- 
ing, my friends, I had wiped out three more of my 
persecutors. 

" They did not trouble me any for some days. I 
think it must have been nigh outer a week, when, 
making sure that I was dead from starvation, another 
attempt was made to enter the cavern. I kept at a 
distance until two of them had come in, when I sprang 
upon them, and with old Kill-Deer and my knife, 
made a finish of them also. 

" Boys, th' Injuns was now plum skeered. They 
were sure that they had none but the Evil One to deal 
with. In fact I blackened my face and looked out of 
the cave at one fellow who had ventured near. He 
gave an awful cry and ran away, howling. About 
an hour afterwards, filling the air with their yells of 



UNCLE JOB WITHEESPOON 311 

disappointed vengeance, the whole outfit mounted 
their mustangs, and I could hear them riding away 
down the banks of the river. 

" ' O-o-o-e-e ! O-o-o-e-e ! ' they wailed ; and, boys, 
I sure did do some tall chuckling. 

" Arter a while I felt sure that the coast was clear 
of th' red vermin. So I ventured into th' open air, 
and, mounting upon the top of a river bank, I could 
see them spurring away across the prairie as if the 
Evil Spirit were arter them. Boys! I had been pent 
up in that dark hole for more than three weeks, as 
rtear as I could guess; so the strong light of the sun 
nearly blinded me at first. Arter a while I got used 
to it. I tell you what, boys! if this green earth and 
th' blue skies ever looked beautiful to my eyes, they 
did on that blessed morning when I crept outen that 
living grave, for yer must remember that there wuz 
dead Blackfeet all around me." 

" But, Uncle Job," interrupted one of his hearers. 
" How did your sick men at the post get along with- 
out the medicine ? '* 

The old trapper looked sad. 

" Poorly! Poorly! " said he. " Two of them had 
died before I returned. They waited for ten days for 
me to come back, and, finding that I didn't, they sent 
another man to Fort Laramie for the medicine. The 
others were saved. 

" Arter an absence of about a month I reached the 
post again. As I didn't want to acknowledge that I 
had turned out of my way merely for the sake of a 
taste of some excellent cider while my comrades were 



312 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

suffering for the want of what I had been sent 
for, I said nothing about it, beyond the fact that 
I had been a prisoner among the Injuns and 
had managed to make my escape arter a hard 
fight. 

" Some months arterwards, when a party of us 
were trappin' out on th' Medicine Bow Range, we 
concluded that we would make a visit to our cache. 
We rode long and hard to reach there. Finally we 
came in sight of the cave, and I recognized the place 
where I had had a desperate battle for my life. We 
entered the cavern and found it just as I had left it, 
with the exception that the dead Blackfeet warriors 
had been removed. The sack of flour and bag of rice 
were just as the other party had cached them, and — 
not greatly to my surprise — the gallant little cask of 
cider had disappeared. The dried venison had also 
vanished." 

The old trapper smiled benignly upon his listeners. 
" The fact is, boys," said he, " although I had a pretty 
onlikely time of it with them cussed Blackfeet I felt 
so awful ashamed of th' hull affair that I didn't let 
on a single word about it. Th' truth is, I wuz plum 
angry with myself fer gettin' caught in that ar cave 
simply because I hankered after some sparkling 
cider." 

At this all the boys burst into loud laughter, and 
the old trapper retired to the fire in order to broil 
some antelope steaks for supper. 

" Fellers, he's the real thing," said one. " Too 
bad that those good days aren't with us now, for 



UNCLE JOB WITHERSPOON 313 

then, we, too, might have some adventures of our 
own." 

But the old times of roving Blackfeet, and desper- 
ate battles for life and for liberty, had long passed 
away. 



HENRY SHANE: 

HEROIC SCOUT OF THE PLAINS 
OF TEXAS 

ONE day a young fellow was hunting deer 
near Pinto Creek, twelve miles from Fort 
Clark in Texas. His name was Henry 
Shane, and, although a German by birth, he had early 
emigrated to the Lone Star State, where he had 
joined the United States army and had fought in the 
more important battles of the Mexican War. Deer 
were plentiful, and it was not long before he had 
killed a fat buck. Laying his gun down upon the 
ground, the youthful hunter took out his long knife 
and prepared to skin the game. 

Suddenly the sharp crack of a twig made him look 
up. He shrank back with a cry, for before him were 
six large and gaudily painted redskins. One had 
seized his rifle, another pointed a gun at his breast. 
It was useless to run. 

"How! How! I surrender!" said the young 
Texan. *' You no hurt me." 

"Ugh! Ugh!" grunted one of the foremost red 
men — evidently a chief. " We want you, paleface." 

The Indians now seized the unfortunate ranchman, 
tied his arms behind his back, and — after whipping 

314 



HENRY SHANE 315 

him severely with a pair of rope-hobbles, which they 
used to confine their ponies — rode off with him. 

" Oh, my," thought poor Henry Shane, *' they'll fix 
me now, sure. I'm afraid that it's all up with 
me!" 

The redskins moved off quickly towards the north- 
west, and had not gone very far before they were 
joined by nine more Indians, making fifteen in all. 
They travelled all that day and part of the night. 
Then they stopped to rest and eat. Here they again 
rained blows upon the back of poor Henry, but for 
what reason he was at a loss to know, as he had done 
nothing to warrant such treatment. For dinner they 
presented him with a small piece of burned deer meat 
with the hair still on it. The prisoner made a pretty 
poor meal of such provender. 

The braves took a good rest, and did not break 
camp until dawn. Then they bundled up their goods 
and were off. They travelled rapidly until about nine 
o'clock in the morning, when they again made a halt 
near a crystal spring. They had hurried along, for 
they feared pursuit, and in this they were quite right, 
for some Mexican herders had heard Shane's gun 
when he killed the deer. As he did not return, later, 
they went in search of him, finding the slain deer and 
a fresh Indian trail. " He is either killed or cap- 
tured." they thought. " Probably the latter, as we 
cannot find his body." News was at once carried to 
the fort, and a squad of soldiers was ordered to fol- 
low the Indians. They were guided by an excellent 
Mexican called " Old Roka," who had lived with the 



316 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

savages for many years and knew their methods of 
fighting. 

The Indians were camped near a cedar-brake, and 
the blue-coats rode up, just as they had finished break- 
fast. " Old Roka " led the soldiers into their very 
midst, before they knew it. Even young Henry 
Shane did not suspect the presence of the troops until 
they were right among the redskins. The latter 
picked up their own rifles and other arms. For a few 
moments they had a lively fight with the blue-coats. 
Bullets and arrows were flying thick and fast, when 
young Henry decided to skip into the neighboring 
cane-brake. He knew that it was a custom of the 
Indians to kill their captives, when they were attacked, 
so he decided to get away before they could harm him. 

As Henry dashed away, an Indian fired an arrow 
after him, which went through his arm and remained 
fixed there. This did not stop the young pioneer. 
He raced onward, and breaking off the handle of the 
arrow, pulled it out, — then stopped and listened. 
The fight was still going on, the Indians were yelling 
and the carbines in the hands of the soldiers still con- 
tinued to pop. Some of the Indians seemed to be 
endeavoring to make their escape into the cane-brake, 
so the terrified Henry continued his flight, determined 
to make his way back to the fort, without waiting for 
the soldiers. 

As young Shane made off, he saw four redskins 
fall before the bullets of the troops. He pressed for- 
ward and came to a wide creek which it was impossible 
to cross. He followed it all day and, when night 



HENRY SHANE 317 

came, climbed into a tree to spend the evening. A 
mountain lion began to screech and call near by and 
this kept him awake for some time. Finally he fell 
into deep slumber. 

When daylight came, the fleeing pioneer dropped 
down from his perch and continued towards the fort. 
This he eventually reached. He had been forty-eight 
hours without food, except for the little piece of 
burnt meat which the savages had given him. He 
was very weak, and was welcomed like a long lost 
brother. The soldiers had completely annihilated the 
redskins, and, after the fight, had looked everywhere 
for the young pioneer. As they could not find him 
they had given him up for lost and had returned to 
the fort. When they saw the lost frontiersman, they 
gave three long cheers for the " young cuss who got 
away. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " 

Not long after this exciting afifair Henry Shane 
settled upon a broad creek, called Chicon Creek, which 
ran near the Anna Catchi Mountains. A few settlers 
were near him and the Indians were quite numerous. 
They were also very hostile to the whites, and the 
young pioneer soon had a very serious afifair with 
them. 

One day he was riding by the San Miguel ranch, 
which was an old-time Mexican ranch with a rock 
wall around it and an entrance through a gate. When 
he arrived at this place he could see no one stirring. 
The gate was open, so he dismounted and went in. 
He saw no signs of life. A little dog barked at him, 
— that was all. 



318 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Upon a smooth piece of sheet-iron, which lay near 
two rocks, were several cakes of bread. They had 
been turned and were burned upon the under side. 
As the fire still gleamed beneath them, the pioneer 
was sure that something was wrong. He could see 
no one, — so continued upon his way. 

His horse trotted slowly along, and Henry soon 
crossed a creek where he found a dead Mexican. It 
was evident that the " Greaser " had been killed by 
Indians, for his body was full of arrows, and near by 
was his horse, lying motionless upon the ground. 
The Mexican had been endeavoring to get to the 
ranch when the Indians caught up with him. They 
first killed his horse and then killed him. 

Shane rode onward. As he came upon the top of 
a ridge he saw a broncho tied some distance off. He 
knew enough about Indians to keep well away from 
the animal. So — riding around him — he continued 
upon his journey. He soon saw the wisdom of his 
move, for as he rode onward he beheld an Indian 
crouching near his pony. Soon five others came into 
view and started after him at a hard gallop. 

The plainsman pushed rapidly along and came to 
a ranch where there was a crowd of excited Mexicans, 
some of whom were from the place where the dead 
Mexican had been employed. The murdered vaquero, 
they said, had been away from the ranch when it was 
attacked. The Indians had headed him off and had 
killed him, after he had made a run to get inside the 
walls of the adobe house. 

" We outnumber the infernal redskins," cried 



HENRY SHANE 319 

Henry. *' Come on, boys, let's go back and clean 'em 
up!" 

" We're with you ! " cried the others, and, quickly 
mounting their mustangs, they were soon started 
towards the place where the Indians had last been 
seen. As they rode over a small hillock, the murder- 
ous redskins could be sighted far below on the plain. 
They were intent upon setting fire to the ranch build- 
ings and did not notice the approach of Shane and his 
companions. 

" Spread out, boys ! " cried the now excited plains- 
man. " Spread out and try to surround the red 
devils ! " 

The Mexicans and Texan vaqueros followed his 
lead, and, circling about the red men, soon closed in 
upon them from three sides. Rifles began to ring 
out, and, with a wild yelping, the Indians started to 
retreat. As they did so, Henry Shane waved his som- 
brero in the air, and all raced after the red men, on 
the dead gallop. 

Now was a beautiful running fight. The Indians 
could not aim at all well, from the backs of their 
ponies. Their bullets went very wide. The whites, 
on the other hand, shot two of the Indian mustangs; 
and, although their owners fell to the ground, both 
swung themselves to the backs of other ponies and 
safely rode off, hanging to the waists of the riders. 
Finally they all got away in a deep canyon, and am- 
buscaded themselves so well behind rocks and boul- 
ders that the plainsmen decided to withdraw. The 
Indians had not hit a single white man. 



320 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Soon after this event Henry Shane purchased 
some sheep and took them up on the Foris River to 
graze. He Hved in a tent, with one companion. They 
pitched their canvas behind a brush fence. 

One night Henry was sitting with his back to this 
fence, boiling some coffee, with no thought that any 
redskins were within twenty miles of him. But at 
this very moment several were prowling around his 
camp and had noticed the position which he was in. 
One of them — bolder than the rest — slipped up to 
the opposite side of the fence with the intention of 
poking his gun through the brush and shooting the 
pioneer in the back. As he shoved the muzzle of his 
gun through the dry twigs, he made so much noise 
that the plainsman heard him. Turning to his Mexi- 
can herder, Felipe Flores, he cried out: 

" Felipe ! What is that noise ? " 

" It is a rat," replied Felipe. " I saw one running 
through the brush." 

As he ceased speaking the Indian attempted to 
shoot, but his gun snapped and hung fire. The fron- 
tiersman heard the noise and jumped to his feet. 
When he did so, the gun went off, as the Indian at- 
tempted to jerk it back through the brush, and the 
ball passed through Shane's hat. The Indian ran 
away, before the startled sheepman could seize a rifle 
and shoot in return. 

The frontiersman had certainly had a narrow es- 
cape, and he determined in future to be more careful. 
Next morning he rode to a neighboring ranch and 
discovered that the Indians had been there and had 



HENRY SHANE 321 

carried off twenty-five horses. The ranchers were 
anxious to get back their stock, so a force was imme- 
diately raised to pursue the thieving- redskins. They 
rode out — thirteen in all — and soon overtook the 
Indians upon the w^est branch of the river Neuces. 
The redskins were in camp, but saw the white men 
as they came up a mountain, and moved off in a great 
hurry. With a wild shout, the plainsmen, vaqueros, 
and Mexicans started to gallop after the red men, who 
crowded through a gap in the mountains and ran 
away, carrying the captured horses with them. But 
their pursuers gained rapidly, and pressed the Indians 
so close that they dropped seven head of the Adams 
horses. These were quickly seized by the whites, who 
followed up the fleeing redskins until their own mounts 
were exhausted. 

" Reckon we'll have to give up," said Henry Shane. 
" Boys, there's some good beef stewing at the Indian 
camp. Let's go back and get some ! " 

All turned towards the deserted Indian encamp- 
ment, and, when they arrived there, found some 
shields and head-dresses which the Indians had left 
in their flight. They then camped for the night. 

Next morning Henry Shane was anxious to get 
back home, as the scout was practically over. Sad- 
dling up his broncho, he started out over the plain 
accompanied by a Mexican named Leal, who was the 
" boss " of a neighboring ranch. They travelled on 
together for about two miles, when suddenly and very 
unexpectedly they met a band of Indians in the road 
driving a bunch of horses before them. When these 



322 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

saw the two ranchmen they turned their bronchos 
away from the road, and kept on, without molesting 
the whites. 

" Well," said Shane to his companion, " we should 
go back and tell the other men that here is a chance 
to fight Indians." 

" No," answered Leal. " I'm going home. But 
you can do as you wish." 

Shane bade the " boss " good-by and started for the 
place which he had just left. The plainsmen were 
still in camp at the bluf¥, but they had their horses 
saddled and were preparing to mount just as the ex- 
cited Henry rode up. 

" Boys ! " he cried, " I've just met a band of Indians 
with some stolen horses. You come along with me 
and we'll get these fellows, sure." 

" Lead on ! " cried his men. " Lead on ! " 

They were anxious for a fight. 

The ranchers were soon galloping forward, and it 
was not long before they had overtaken the Indians, 
who quickly started off, waving their blankets at the 
captured horses in order to stampede them. Firing 
commenced, and Shane had a piece shot from the horn 
of his saddle. Two of the Indians were killed, but 
their horses carried them into the brush. Finally the 
redskins made a stand upon the top of a round 
mountain, but as soon as the whites charged them 
they ran. They left three saddled pintos behind 
them. 

The plainsmen made a rapid pursuit, and soon cap- 
tured thirty horses and seven mules. The red men 



HENRY SHANE 323 

seemed to give up all hope of ever defeating the 
whites, and scurried off like so many rabbits. They 
dodged behind boulders and sage-brush. So quickly 
did their ponies get away that they were soon out of 
sight. Henry Shane and his companions were well 
satisfied with the day's work and gave up the pursuit, 
for their own mounts were badly winded. 

Life upon the frontier of Texas in those days was 
certainly exciting for any one engaged in the sheep 
or cattle business. In spite of the continued danger 
from redskins, Henry Shane did not give up his in- 
terest in sheep. One of his brothers — named Con- 
stance — lived with him and helped to herd the flock, 
although he kept continually upon his guard and was 
never without his rifle. He, himself, was soon to 
have a narrow escape from death. 

One morning Constance was alDout two hundred 
yards from the house carefully watching a number 
of sheep. He was sitting near the bank of a creek, 
when he heard horses' hoofs knocking the rocks under 
the bluff. He stepped up to the edge of the bank and 
looked over, expecting to see some cattlemen from a 
neighboring ranch. To his surprise and dismay he 
saw nine Indians, with the chief in the lead. They 
were riding up the bank in an old cow trail. 

Young Constance was too startled to move. He 
'Stood there trembling, and allowed the redskins to 
come right up to him. The chief had a heavy quirt 
in his hand, with which he struck Shane a stinging 
blow over the head and knocked him down. He then 
dismounted and stripped him. The red men now 



324 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

gathered around their captive, making a great screech- 
ing and howling. 

Henry Shane saw the Indians collected in a group, 
and, seizing his rifle, went to a corner of a fence to 
watch them. He could not see his brother, and was 
all prepared to fire, should the redskins make a move 
in his own direction. The Indians saw him standing 
there, and, shooting Constance with an arrow, they 
rode away, yelping derisively. 

Henry followed the redskins in order t/o see which 
course they took, and then came back to camp, still 
unaware that anything had happened to his brother. 
The Indians had apparently determined to withdraw 
entirely, which was fortunate for the lone sheep 
herder. Constance finally crawled to his feet and came 
back to the camp, declaring that there were eight 
bucks and one squaw in the party and that the squaw 
had shot him. He was grievously wounded, — so 
grievously that every one who saw him said that he 
would die. But he fooled them all and became per- 
fectly well again, — much to the joy of Henry, who 
loved him dearly. 

Exciting adventures were still in store for the 
daring Henry Shane, who continued to herd his sheep 
in this border country, in spite of the fact that the cruel 
redskins were all around him. Not long after the 
wounding of Constance, Henry went up the river, 
which ran near his ranch, and entered tihe ranch-yard 
of a sheepman called Joe Brown, who owned a sheep 
vat and a furnace. The ranch was then vacant, as 
Mr. Brown had moved to Uvalde and had told Shane 



HENRY SHANE 325 

that he could use his vat and furnace for dipping sheep. 
It was Henry's intention to start a fire in the fur- 
nace for the purpose of boiling tobacco, which was 
used in dipping the sheep, to cure them of a disease 
called " the scab," or to prevent them from catching 
this dread complaint. 

A Mexican named Bernaldo was with the sheepman, 
and rode forward in order to get some horses which 
were in a small pasture not far distant. He soon came 
back upon the dead run, whipping his horse furiously 
with his hat. 

"Hello, there! What's the trouble?" shouted 
Shane. 

The Mexican was so excited that he passed on 
without seeing or hearing the plainsman, although he 
was not far from him as he raced recklessly by. He 
was certainly well frightened at something. 

Shane was not armed. This was unusual, as he 
seldom left the house without a gun, because of the 
possibility of an Indian attack. Hearing a great com- 
motion in the pasture, where the horses were, he 
walked up to the fence only to see — to his dismay — 
that there were seven Indians in the field after the 
horses. They saw him at once and three of them left 
the enclosure in order to give him chase. 

The plainsman was in a tight position, but his cour- 
age did not desert him at this crucial moment. As 
luck would have it, he carried a long stick in his hand, 
which he had used in order to punch the fire in the 
furnace. He turned and ran, but the Indians were 
upon the backs of their ponies and soon came very 



326 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

close to him. He pointed his stick at them, as if about 
to shoot. Every redskin dodged and swung himself 
upon the off side of his horse. " Ugh ! Ugh ! He 
have shooting-stick ! " cried one. 

This gave the courageous frontiersman another op- 
portunity to run, and he made off as fast as his legs 
would carry him. A man named Patterson had a 
ranch near by and to this sheltering abode the plains- 
man now bent his footsteps. The Indians were hot 
on his trail and soon caught up with him, but he again 
pointed his stick at them. They dodged, and this gave 
him a second start, so that he reached the ranch-yard 
and jumped over the fence into the cow-pen. Utter- 
ing loud and vociferous cries, the Indians shot some 
arrows at him, and then turned back in order to secure 
the horses from the pasture. This they did and were 
soon galloping away with them. 

The pioneer climbed out of the cow-pen, ran up to 
the ranch house, and called to the owner, who hap- 
pened to be there : 

" Come on, Patterson. If you will assist me, we 
will get back the horses." 

" I'm your man," Patterson replied. " Here's a 
rifle of mine. I will take a six-shooter." 

" All right," said Shane. *' We'll see if we cannot 
do something to these crafty fellows. Come oh ! " 

The two ranchmen soon met the Indians coming 
down the road, driving the horses before them. The 
valiant two stepped to one side in order to ambush 
the red thieves, Shane hiding behind a large cactus 
plant. As the foremost Indian came near, Shane took 



HENRY SHANE 327 

good aim at him, and pulled the trig-g-er of his rifle. 
But it refused to go off. The Indians heard the noise 
and galloped away with their captured horses, while 
the two ranchmen made after them. They, themselves, 
were ambushed and had to ride hard in order to get 
away from the redskins, who were reinforced by a 
considerable band. After their retreat the plainsmen 
again followed with additional numbers, but the In- 
dians were well ahead, and the pursuit had to be 
abandoned. 

In 1872 Mr. Shane decided to make a sheep camp 
about two and a half miles from where he lived, so 
drove down there in a wagon one morning, in order 
to pitch a tent and fix things for the comfort of his 
Mexican herder, who was off with a band of sheep. 
The camp was beneath the fork of a live-oak tree. 
The frontiersman left his wagon about a dozen yards 
from where he was at work, and started to put a 
small board between the forks of the live-oak, to serve 
as a shelf. Two guns were in his wagon. 

While thus occupied, he suddenly heard a wild war- 
whoop, and found that he had been attacked by the 
Indians. A redskin came up behind the wagon, on 
horseback, and shot at the ranchman with a six- 
shooter, the ball striking the right-hand fork of the 
tree and knocking the bark into his face and eyes. 
The pioneer turned, in order to get his guns out of 
his wagon, and faced the levelled revolver of the sav- 
age. He kept cool — in spite of this danger — and, 
as he walked to the wagon, received two more shots 
from the Indian. As the redskin was behind the con- 



328 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

veyance, his shots went high, passing over the head 
of the frontiersman, who soon reached his wagon and 
looked for his guns. The Comanche saw what the 
white man was after, and, when he perceived that his 
shots had failed to take effect, he wheeled his horse 
and ran away. Shane seized a rifle and fired at him, 
killing his horse when he did so. As the pinto rolled 
upon the ground eight more Indians showed them- 
selves and began to charge the lone white man. The 
gun which he had just discharged was a Mississippi 
yager, and he had no more balls for it. 

But the frontiersman had another weapon : a new, 
single-shot Ballard rifle, and he only had two car- 
tridges for it; one in the gun and one in his pocket. 
In leaving home that morning he had left his belt 
behind, which was full of cartridges for the Ballard. 
He was in a close place, but he had — as you know — 
been in close places before, and he was determined 
to make the best fight that he could. He resolved not 
to waste a shot. Using his wagon as a breastwork 
he awaited the onset of the Indians, and when they 
came nearer he raised his gun and aimed at them. 
The redskins dodged behind the prickly pear and 
mesquite bushes, from which they opened fire, hitting 
the wagon and the ground around it repeatedly. 

Now occurred a lively battle. The frontiersman 
had tied a fat mule about one hundred feet from the 
wagon, where he could eat grass. A daring redskin 
concluded to risk his chances and get the animal, so, 
leaving the cover of the mesquite bushes, he advanced 
across open ground in order to steal the unsuspecting 



HENRY SHANE 329 

beast. When Shane saw the Indian coming with his 
knife ready to sever the rope which held the mule, 
he determined to risk a crack at him. He was an 
excellent shot, and he knew that he could kill the 
Indian if he did not dodge too quickly. Taking a 
quick but accurate aim, he fired. The Comanche brave 
jumped high in the air, and then fell in a sheep trail 
and lay there. The other Indians set up a terrible 
howling when they saw that their companion had 
been killed, and several of them ran quickly, seized 
him by the hair and dragged him out of sight behind 
the prickly pear bushes. The pioneer still crouched 
low and waited for the Comanches to come on, but, 
dreading to expose themselves to such marksmanship, 
the Indians did not again show themselves. 

Certainly things looked bad for Henry Shane, but 
help was at hand. The Mexican attendant heard the 
fight, and from the number of shots that were fired 
supposed that his employer had been killed. He ran 
to the ranch in order to inform Mrs. Shane of this 
fact. The lady sent four Mexicans out to see if they 
could not assist her husband. When they neared the 
scene of action the Indians decamped, leaving their 
dead comrade behind. The ranchers buried the Co- 
manche brave where he had fallen in the sheep trail. 

When the lucky sheepman returned to his ranch 
from the scene of this thrilling little battle he found 
that a strange happening had come to pass. The 
Mexican sheep-herder who had rushed home to warn 
his wife that the Indians had surrounded him, was 
found to be in a serious condition, through over- 



330 FAMOUS FRONTIEESMEN 

exertion in carrying the news of Henry's supposed 
death. The poor fellow was in great pain, and, al- 
though he was placed in a wagon and was carried to 
San Antonio, where he could see the best physicians, 
he died soon afterwards. 

As for the gallant Shane, he continued to have 
exciting adventures with the redskins, and, not long 
after the lucky escape which I have just narrated, 
had another brush with the roving Comanches. He 
had made a sheep camp three miles from his house, 
at a place called Long Hollow, and had his Mexican 
herder with him. This was the faithful Felipe Flores. 

Early one morning Shane heard rocks rattling in 
the hollow below the camp, so he and Flores went out 
a short distance in front in order to investigate the 
matter. Felipe went slightly in advance, and to 
Shane's questioning as to what he saw, replied : 

" It is Mr. Dilliard, whom we have been expecting 
to help us hunt for some lost sheep." 

Shane kept on, but suddenly started back in dismay. 
Ten Comanches were coming for him upon the dead 
run. 

In an instant the sheepman turned and hastened 
to the tent in order to seize his rifle. The Indians 
were right after him, and crowded Felipe so closely 
that he ran backward towards the fire. As a Co- 
manche endeavored to thrust a lance into his body he 
fell into the flames. When this occurred the Indians 
opened fire upon Henry Shane, endeavoring to hit him 
before he could get his gun. Several balls struck the 
tent, but the Ranger was unscathed. 




A COMANCHE WARRIOR. 



HENRY SHANE 331 

Now the plainsman seized his rifle, and, wheeling 
around, fired at his enemies. They retreated at once 
and dashed into the thick brush. As they scampered 
away, two Indians on the same horse were seen to ride 
behind a thick bunch of prickly pears, only one of 
whom came out upon the other side. 

" That second redskin is still behind the pears," 
said Flores. " He is waiting there in order to shoot 
any one who may come out to look around." 

" I think that I'll stir him up a bit," said Shane, 
and, aiming at the bunch of pears, he let drive. Sure 
enough, he routed an Indian, who ran off, screeching 
loudly. When the spot was afterwards examined a 
bullet hole was seen in the pears. The redskin had 
had a narrow escape. 

This was not Henry's last adventure with the red- 
skins by any means, for, about a month later he went 
down the river, less than a mile from his ranch, to 
a place called the " Indian Crossing." There were 
two Mexicans with him, who had a wagon and a pair 
of mules. Their intention was to saw cypress logs in 
order to make boards and shingles for a new ranch 
house. 

The plainsmen finished their work of loading logs 
and were soon ready to return home. One of the 
Mexicans, called Antonio, had a gun which had been 
resighted. He wished to have Shane try it, and there- 
fore called out : 

" Come here, Senor, and try my rifle. It can shoot 
well I know, but I would like to have your opinion 
of it. There is a tree which will make a good mark." 



332 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

" I'm agreeable," replied Henry, taking up the gun. 
He fired two shots at the tree. When he had finished, 
the Mexican went over to see where he had hit the 
bark. 

Over forty Indians were crossing the ford of the 
river near by at about this moment. They heard the 
rifle shots, and, learning from a scout that three white 
men were there, determined to surround and capture 
them. So they spread out like a fan in order to com- 
pletely annihilate the little party. Half of the redskins 
came up on the bluflf upon the east side, opposite 
Shane and his two Mexicans ; the balance went to the 
old crossing above, so as to come around the frontiers- 
men upon the west side and thus cut off their retreat 
in both directions. Henry Shane was now in another 
tight box. Let us see how he fared. 

A sudden rattling of rocks warned the pioneer and 
his companion that some one was near by. His friend 
(the Mexican) mounted a stump, so that he could see 
the crossing, and said : 

" There are soldiers coming up the river." 

As he jumped down, Henry, himself, climbed up 
on the stump in order to have a look. 

" Soldiers ! " he cried. " Why, man, those are 
Indians ! " 

He immediately seized his rifle and stood prepared 
for action. 

Antonio, as you know, had gone to look at the bul- 
let marks upon a tree. When the Indians came down 
the bank of the river they encountered this Mexican 
and opened fire upon him. Antonio attempted to run 



HENRY SHANE 333 

back to Shane, but, as he started forward, he was 
struck by a bullet, and fell into some high weeds. The 
Indians closed in upon the other two sheepmen, utter- 
ing wild cries of delight, for they felt that they had 
them, and they bore no love for Henry Shane. They 
were armed with Spencer carbines and commenced a 
rapid fire upon the bold frontiersman and his com- 
panion. 

The bullets began to rain in from both sides of the 
creek, as Shane took shelter behind a huge cypress 
log and commenced the unequal battle. He was now 
in the tightest place that he had ever been in in his 
life, but. he kept cool, and only fired at long intervals, 
and with careful aim. The redskins were uncertain 
as to the force they were attacking and were afraid 
to come down into the bed of the river and to fight 
at close quarters. The second Mexican crawled into 
a tree-top, so that only his feet were visible. He was 
of no assistance to the gallant frontiersman. 

After shooting away for some time, the Indians 
decided to send a warrior on horseback below (where 
Shane was crouching), in order to see if all were 
killed, or if there were any still left. The frontiers- 
man was on the alert, and, as the redskin approached, 
he caught the first motion of the reeds as he slipped 
through. The rest of the red men had ceased firing 
and were all under cover. 

There was a moment of breathless anxiety. Shane 
held a large revolver in his hand, as he lay close to 
the ground, watching around the end of the log, as 
the fellow came in view. At once he aimed at the 



334 FAMOUS FEONTIERSMEN 

redskin's breast and pulled the trigger. The Co- 
manche reeled and fell to one side of his horse, clutch- 
ing the mane of the animal as it ran up a bluff. The 
other redskins now rose from the grass and endeav- 
ored to stop the startled beast; but he kept running 
around in a circle, for some time, with the Indian 
still hanging to his mane. At last he was captured, 
and a loud wailing cry told the frontiersman that the 
shot which he had fired had done its deadly work. 

The Indians now held a council of war. They could 
be easily seen by Shane, where he lay. Apparently 
they had had sufficient fighting, for they mounted 
and rode off. As they disappeared from view, the 
happy frontiersman mounted a stump and counted 
forty warriors. How many he had killed besides this 
last one he could not tell. He took no time to inves- 
tigate the matter and prepared to leave at once. 

The sides of the log, behind which he had lain, 
were perforated with bullets. One bullet hole was in 
his boot leg, one was in his hat, two were in his shirt, 
three were in the wagon bed, and one of the mules was 
badly wounded. In spite of this, the animal was able 
to draw the wagon home with him, in which was 
placed the wounded Antonio. The other Mexican had 
crawled from his hiding-place after the fight was over. 
He was certainly not made of the same stern stuff as 
was Henry Shane. 

The bold rancher and frontiersman had had a nar- 
row escape, but he had a still narrower escape, some 
time later. It was upon a winter's day, and he had 
gone out to a place called " Griner's Bottom " in 



HENEY SHANE 335 

order to listen to turkeys as they flew up to roost, for 
he wished to kill some of them for dinner on Christ- 
mas Eve. He found the place, and had not been 
there long before he heard the sound of horses' feet. 
Looking around, he saw five Indians riding to- 
wards him. They seemed to be unaware of his 
presence. 

There was no time for anything but quick action. 
Henry hugged the live-oak tree, against which he had 
been leaning. As he did so, the Indians came jogging 
along on both sides of him : two on one side — three 
on the other. It was rapidly getting dark, so they 
did not see the lone frontiersman. Luckily they did 
not look back after they had gone past. Had they 
done so, they would have seen Henry pressing him- 
self flat against the tree trunk, grasping his muzzle- 
loading shotgun very tightly and trying to keep his 
teeth from chattering. Sometimes this antiquated 
gun missed fire. Oh, fortunate Ranger! The red- 
skins were soon trotting onward in the darkness. 

This was not the last adventure which the daring 
Henry had with the savages by any means, but it was 
the most exciting. He lived for many years upon his 
ranch in Uvalde County; prospered, and became one 
of the solid citizens of the state. Truly his was an 
adventurous soul. It was to such men as these, who 
dared to take any chance and assume any risk, that 
the West owes its settlement. Its civilization, and up- 
building. 

All honor, then, to Henry Shane, — the Texan pio- 
neer for whom the Indian had no terrors, He passed 



336 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 



through so many hairbreadth escapes that one would 
think him often thankful that he was alive. Hail to 
this stout German who helped to make history upon 
the Mexican frontier! 



POOR JERRY LANE: 

THE LOST TRAPPER OF WYOMING 

[This is the story of a young frontiersman, whom I 
knew, myself] 



JACKSON'S HOLE, Wyoming, was named after 
one Jackson, a pioneer, explorer, ranchman, and 
horseman. Jackson's Hole was also the home of 
horse thieves who, gathering up their captured steeds, 
would run them into this peaceful valley to feed them 
on the rich, natural hay until they could be driven 
out at a different angle and sold to some one who knew 
nothing of their former ownership. Jackson's Hole 
was also the home of desperadoes who had fled from 
justice. Jackson's Hole was the place that I was 
going to in the summer of 1899. 

" Goin' to Jackson's Hole, be yer?" said a fellow 
in a big sombrero, on the train to Idaho Falls. 
" Young man, you'll never get out alive. Young man, 
it's a desperate place." 

He winked at me, shook his finger in my face, and 
dropped back into the seat from which he had arisen. 
" Young man," he continued, " the Injuns will get 
you, sure. Young man, look out ! " 

I confess that I felt somewhat disconcerted. 
337 



338 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" I'll take care of my scalp," said I. 

Here the companion of my friend in the sombrero 
spoke. This one had a red handkerchief knotted 
about his tawny neck, and wore a corduroy waist- 
coat. 

" Yes, son," said he, " haven't you heard about the 
Injuns in Jackson's Hole two years ago? They 
stampeded th' settlers, ran off a lot of stock, murdered 
an' burned, until rounded up by the U. S. Cavalry. 
Reckon there be some more loose in thar now. An' 
panthers! Why, boy, they're as thick as peas in a 
pod. An' dangerous, too, by gravy ! " 

The first speaker guffawed. 

" 'Tain't nawthin' to th' grizzlies," said he. " They 
be monstrous pestiferous. Why, they pull you from 
your horse they be so unafraid of men." 

I squirmed uneasily in my seat, for I saw that they 
knew me to be a tenderfoot. 

" Boy, you'll be eaten alive an' scalped to boot," 
continued the fellow in the sombrero. " The good 
Lord have mercy on your soul." 

" Amen ! " echoed his companion. 

And I wriggled again, for I saw that they knew me 
to be an Easterner, and were having fun in their own 
way. 

At any rate, I was bound for Jackson's Hole and 
would get there somehow or other in spite of horse 
thieves, " Injuns " and grizzly bears. 

We met at Idaho Falls. When I say we, I mean 
our party, for we were surveyors, bent upon explora- 
tion of Uncle Sam's possessions, and upon making 



POOR JEEEY LANE 339 

an accurate map of the somewhat unknown country- 
near Jackson's Hole. We knew that it was a great 
land for game and fish and that it was the home of 
monster bands of elk, but we also knew that it had 
an unsavory reputation as the haunt for " bad " men 
of the hills. As I had come up on the train, certain 
placards in the stations showed that these same " bad " 
men were still around and had been operating at the 
expense of the Express Companies. 
The placards read : 

"$40,000 REWARD 
For the Capture, Dead or Alive, of the 
Men who robbed the Union Pacific 
Express near Rawlins, Wyoming, on 
the Evening of June 4th." 

Then followed an inaccurate description of those 
who had been seen to enter the mail car, seize the box 
containing valuable mail and expressage, and decamp 
across the prairie with their plunder on their ponies' 
backs. 

At Pocatello, Idaho, I looked from the window and 
saw beneath me a light-haired, blue-eyed Swede. He 
was standing there nonchalantly, dressed in a cordu- 
roy suit, blue handkerchief knotted about his neck, 
and wide sombrero. 

" That's the sheriff," said a man at my elbow. 

" Where's he bound? " I asked. 

" Into the hills after the train robbers," he an- 
swered. " He has a posse with him and they ought 



340 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

to be able to capture a few of the bandits who held 
up the Union Pacific Express." 

The train rolled on, but I always remembered that 
sturdy little figure, standing carelessly on the plat- 
form, in corduroys. In a week he had been ambushed, 
with his entire posse, and two had escaped out of the 
eleven. The little sheriff was buried in the hills. 

To get into Jackson's Hole was then a rather diffi- 
cult affair, for it meant a long journey by pack-train 
from either Market Lake or Idaho Falls. But the 
surveyor and the sons of the pioneer, whom he en- 
gaged to pilot him, were not adverse to pushing into 
a wild country. It took a week to outfit the party, 
secure the necessary horses, engage the men, and whip 
the fractious range-animals into some kind of sub- 
mission for carrying saddles, pack equipment, and 
heavy bags of food and tenting. Then, in a cloud 
of alkali dust, and with a crowd of Blackfeet children 
gazing open-mouthed at the curious caravan, we were 
off for the blue hills which lay to the northeast. 

The plains of Idaho are not only arid and parched, 
but they are covered with sage-brush, which emits a 
strong, pungent odor that is delicious. The alkali dust 
arises in clouds, and chokes one, as one proceeds, but 
that is not the only difficulty, for — strange as it may 
seem — the mosquito breeds by the millions in the 
irrigating ditches, and had it not been for the thick 
gauntlet gloves and netting attached to our sombreros, 
we would have been fairly eaten alive by the black 
swarms which followed us in clouds. 

Every now and again — afar off on the prairie — 



POOR JERRY LANE 341 

we would see a whirling cloud of moving alkali 
dust. 

" Wild horses running to water," said one of the 
cowboys. " That's the way they always go, on the 
dead gallop." 

Occasionally we came near enough to see some of 
them and they were lean, gaunt and rangy creatures, 
which had escaped from the ranches, had run off to 
the prairie and had found pleasure in the free and 
untrammelled life of the plains. They would snort, 
as we approached, throw their heads high in the air, 
and then — turning around — would be off like the 
wind. 

As we rode along, hot, dusty, and thirsty, I heard 
about Jerry Lane. 

" This here Lane," said Jack (a lean, little cowboy) 
** is a Noo Yorker. He came out here three years 
ago, sayin' that life was too tame for him back East, 
an' he wanted to be right in the Rocky Mountains, 
where the wolves, bears, and antelope could be seen, 
just th' same as in th' time of Kit Carson an' Bill 
Bent. Some says that he's a millionaire. Some says 
that he isn't. Leastways he has about all th' money 
one needs in this here country, an' they tell me his 
cabin in th' Rockies is full of th' best kind of rifles, 
of steel traps, books, an' all that's nice." 

" He found life too tame for him back East." 

This sentence stuck in my mind and I knew — in 
a moment — what kind of a youth was Jerry Lane. 
He had the same spirit as the old explorers. He pos- 
sessed the imagination of a Lewis or a Clarke; a 



342 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

Champlain, or a La Salle. To him the spirit of the 
wilderness was all absorbing, and, shaking off th© 
trammels of civilization, he loved to live out his days 
amidst the towering mountains, which, even then, 
stretched before us, jutting high from the sage-brush 
plateau. I immediately felt a sympathetic interest for 
Jerry Lane. 

To cross into the valley of Jackson's Hole requires 
one's utmost exertions, for one must climb up the 
Teton Pass in order to get over the mountains which 
surround this paradise of fish and game. For a man 
and a horse to pass up and across is easy work, but 
we were unfortunate enough to have a wagon with 
us. As we neared the bottom of the trail, which led 
almost perpendicularly up in the air, we saw a broken 
vehicle of a pioneer. 

" The Top of Teton Pass, or Bust," some one had 
written on a board and placed upon the battered 
spokes. 

It had " Busted." 

Now climbing, pushing, blowing, we yoked four 
horses to our wagon and gradually worked it to the 
summit of the Pass. It was July, but snow was on 
the ridges, and the air was like Labrador as it swept 
across the hemlock-covered mountains. When once 
on top of the Pass, what a view! We gazed down 
into a peaceful little vale with log houses and thatched 
roofs, fields of green grass with stacks of yellow hay, 
and bluish gray rivers curving gracefully across the 
plain. Hereford cattle, with their brown bodies and 
white faces, grazed contentedly upon the wide sweep 



POOR JERRY LAKE 343 

of natural grass, and the barking of dogs sounded 
indistinctly from the barnyard of a new-made 
home. 

Down we pushed into the valley, then onward, 
across the Snake River at Moeners' Ferry, and then 
to the Buffalo Fork of the Grosventre. Antelope 
began to appear upon the plain and danced about us 
like yellow and white rubber balls. Two of the cow- 
boys dismounted and fired at them, resting their rifles 
upon their knees. They could not duplicate the marks- 
manship of Kit Carson or Buffalo Bill. Not an ante- 
lope was even wounded. 

We camped in a beautiful spot near the Grosventre 
River, and, just as we were lighting the fire for sup- 
per, a cry went up from some one : 

"Elk! Elk!" 

I was busy pouring some coffee, and, looking up, 
saw a cowboy pointing to a high bank opposite our 
camp. Sure enough, there stood a noble bull elk, his 
spreading antlers standing out on either side, giving 
him a calm and majestic appearance. He was gazing 
curiously at the animated scene below. 

Why is it that the average man's first instinct when 
he sees a wild animal is to kill it? I was satisfied 
with watching this magnificent child of the forest, 
but not so with the rest of the party. Three of them 
ran immediately to get their rifles and a fusillade of 
bullets soon whistled in the direction of the big elk. 
He turned, galloped off into the timber, and left the 
cowboys to bemoan their lack of ability with the shoot- 
ing-iron. 



344 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

" By gracious," said one, " I can't hit a barn door 
at fifty yards ! " 

The elk was but one of the many which ranged the 
Jackson Hole country and whose deep trails could be 
seen on every hand. Their bleaching antlers, which 
they had shed, were also upon many a hill, and fre- 
quently we would pass a rancher's cabin, where a 
fence would have been constructed of the white twisted 
horns of the old bulls. I knew that we would soon 
see a quantity of elk, and we did. 

Not many evenings later, as we were again boiling 
our coffee for dinner, the most unearthly scream that 
I have ever heard echoed from the canyon just to our 
right, it was answered by another, and — if I can 
make you believe it — the sound was as if a woman 
were being strangled. 

" Mountain lion screeching," said Jack, with a grim 
smile. "Awful noise, ain't it?" 

I confessed that it was. 

" Makes me always feel skeery. Kind uv makes 
th' gooseflesh creep up my back. Heard 'em a thou- 
sand times but always frightens me." 

The cowboy drew closer to the fire and I noticed 
that he was shivering. 

The mountain lion is a great coward and is afraid 
to attack a human being. Unless cornered and ex- 
tremely hungry, he will not fight. He has — in spite 
of this — the most unearthly scream, which would 
make one believe that he was one of the fiercest and 
most bloodthirsty of beasts. Welling up upon the 
clear night air — in the very heart of the wilderness 



POOR JERRY LAi^E 345 

— it is enough to freeze one's blood to hear their 
wailings. It takes strong nerves to listen to their 
gruesome noise without shaking. 

I heard the lions again about a week later, when 
I and a cowboy called Jim, were making our way up 
the side of a beautiful little tributary to the Gros- 
ventre. We were following a deep-rutted elk trail 
which led up the edge of a mountain to and from 
their summer feeding grounds, upon one of the higher 
plateaus. There was a log cabin nestling at the foot 
of the opposite hill — used by one of the game war- 
dens — and, in the rear of this, a deep bank of hem- 
locks clothed the side of the cliff. Here the lions were 
concealed, and, seeing us riding in the open, shrieked 
out their defiance at the trespassers upon their de- 
mesne. 

Although a startling and nerve-racking sound, we 
kept upon our way, and I confess that I looked to the 
shells in my rifle — fearing that one of the screechers 
might consider us excellent bait for their dinner. 
Soon we had advanced far up the canyon and then 
the lions ceased their caterwauling. 

We were now in the heart of gameland. The tracks 
of bear were extraordinarily thick, and every now 
and again we would come to fresh sign, not an hour 
old. Once I reached a stream through which a big 
grizzly must have just passed, for the water was still 
muddy, and the print of his feet could easily be seen 
in the soft bank. In spite of their apparent numbers 
we could not even catch a glimpse of one of them, 
and, although I was constantly hoping to meet with 



346 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

a specimen of these monsters oi the glen, I was never 
to catch even a fleeting ghmpse of one. 

Not so with the rest of the party. Not a week later 
one of the cowboys rode into camp with a wild yelp- 
ing, and there — behind him — were two of his com- 
panions, lugging in the body of a brown bear. He 
was a little fellow and his fur was all rubbed away 
in places, where he had scratched himself against the 
rocks. In spite of this he was good eating and his 
haunches were enjoyed by most of the party. Per- 
sonally, I did not care for the meat and preferred 
canned tongue. 

The elk trails were most abundant, and I knew that 
we would soon see these brown deer, for we gradually 
moved up to the summit of the Rockies, where were 
vast plateaus covered with millions of beautiful flow- 
ers. These the noble animals lived upon in summer 
and slept among them too, for I would often find 
round holes in the grass, where some of them had 
bedded down a short time before. One evening two 
of the horse-wranglers returned to camp with the 
haunch of a cow elk, and stated — with much glee — 
that they had run upon a band of six, coming through 
some fallen timber. Two had fallen before their 
rifles, and, after cutting off enough for the use of our 
camp, they had placed the bodies in a position that 
could be easily approached, at a later date, when bear 
would undoubtedly be feeding upon the venison. 

A week later we had a glorious view of a large herd 
of elk. 

While traversing a high belt of timber my compan- 



POOR JERRY LA:NE 347 

ion — a surveyor — called out to me to hurry over 
and see something on the other extremity of the ridge, 
upon which he had just taken his position. When I 
reached his side I saw that he was looking in the direc- 
tion of a high plateau, upon which fully a thousand 
elk were feeding. No bulls seemed to be there — they 
were all cows and calves — and were grazing like a 
herd of cattle. The little calves were butting at each 
other and frisking about in great glee, while their 
fond mammas watched them with loving and tender 
glances of affection. It was a beautiful and moving 
vista. 

My companion had a field-glass, and we stood 
watching the changing mass of elk for at least an hour. 
They apparently had no knowledge of our presence, 
for the wind was blowing from them to us, so that no 
strange " scent of the trespassing man " came to their 
keen nostrils. There — in that beautiful mountain 
pasture — the baby elk were growing to maturity, — 
while far below in the valley the settlers were gath- 
ering the natural hay which usually fed them, for 
the use of their own cattle during the long and cruel 
winter. There would be much suffering and distress 
among the band, when they had left these mountain 
meadows for the valley. 

A week later we met the trapper and plainsman : 
Jerry Lane. I had already come upon his cabin and 
had stopped there for luncheon, leaving a neat piece 
of paper on the door to the effect that, — 

" Pardner, we used your tin plates, spoons, knives, 
and one can of potted tongue." 



348 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

High up in the hills the little log hut was situated 
near a stream of icy water. It was about sixteen by 
twenty feet, the floor covered with bear and wolf 
skins, and four rifles in the rack. Great steel traps 
hung upon the walls outside, and antelope hides were 
tacked against it. There were good books within : 
stories of hunting and adventure, — and upon the 
floor — were numerous copies of the Sunday New 
York Journal. Jerry Lane had lived well upon the 
summit of the Rockies. 

I will never forget the view of the young trapper 
which came to me that morning. All around were the 
towering Rockies : an occasional fleck of snow upon 
the brown surface of the high cliffs; a gushing stream 
over on the right; the sage-brush plateau stretched 
away on every side, brown, bare, parched. A puff of 
dust first appeared in the far distance, then two figures 
rode up on horseback. They drew nearer and nearer. 
In front was the youthful personification of Buffalo 
Bill. It was Jerry Lane. 

He was riding a magnificent half-bred animal — a 
roan. His bridle and saddle, as I remember — were 
silver mounted. A big pair of Mexican spurs were 
on his heels. With a close-fitting suit of tawny buck- 
skin, a wide sombrero, cartridge-belt around the waist, 
and a long rifle hung neatly under the left leg he was 
a perfect picture of a plainsman, — such a picture as 
one sees in dime novels. 

Behind him was an evil-looking customer, dressed 
in a slovenly manner, and scowling beneath a rather 
battered-in slouch hat. His horse, too, had nowhere 



POOR JERRY LANE 349 

near the breeding of the other. He frowned as he 
approached : the other smiled. 

" Hello ! " said Jerry Lane. " Dusty, isn't it ? " 

" You bet," said I. " Where you bound? " 

" Montana." 

"Hunting?" 

" No, just taking life easy." 

That was all the conversation that we had. He 
waved his hat to me, touched the spurs to his horse's 
flanks, and was soon off down the divide. For a long 
time I stood and gazed after the lithe figure : young, 
beautiful, brimming over with health and exuberance, 
— the man who had found New York too tame for 
his hot blood. Could you blame him? 

Three days later a cow-puncher rode into our camp, 
threw his saddle on the ground, hobbled his pony, and 
drew near the mess table. 

"Too bad about Jerry, warn't it?" said he, as he 
seated himself. 

" Why, what's the matter with him ? " I asked. 

" Shot." 

"W-h-a-a-t!" 

" Yes, got into a row over the Montana line. They 
say it was accidental. Some one dropped his six- 
shooter on the floor. It exploded. No more Jerry 
Lane." 

That night I walked out to a lonely rock and gazed 
at the brilliant stars. It was the true West, after all, 
the West that I had always read about but had never 
seen until now. I thought of the sandy-haired, blue- 



350 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

eyed sheriff who had gone to the Great Beyond. I 
thought of poor Jerry Lane : that lithe, active figure 
in buckskins ; that devil-may-care manner ; that fresh, 
pink-cheeked face. Yes, the West still held her trag- 
edies, and the low wail of a coyote far off on the plain 
sounded ominously dreary, while the hand of death 
lay over the great wild wastes of the rolling, sage- 
brush-covered prairie. 



THE SONG OF THE MOOSE 

^7 HIS is the song which the trapper heard^ 
Heard in the gloom of the forest dark, 
Heard while the embers snapped and snarled, 

To the growl atid glare of the glimmering spark. 
Heard while the lucivee cried from the pines, 
And the ribboned splash of a startled loon, 
Crystalled the rim of the lake, as it lay 
Soft in the gleam of the hunter^ s moon. 
This is the song of the moose. 

Near the amber drip of the torrent's rip, 

Where the lean wolf howls at the blindmg spray, 
Where the sleeted pine is riven and rent, 

By stress and strain of the mist-bank gray; 
We struggled and fed through the reedling's bed, 

Where the sheldrake croons to her fledglings brown, 
And the otter mewed to its hungry brood. 

As the osprey peered from the hemlock's crown. 

Our moosling day was a rapturous play, 

We browsed where the partridge drummed a song. 
Where the brown bear hid in the tamarack, 

Where the days were short and the nights were long. 
We roamed 'neath the arch of the drowsy larch, 

Where the beaver bred in the inky pool, 
We splashed in the foam of the cataract. 

In the frothing spume and the ripples cool. 
351 



352 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN^ 

We hid 'neath the pine of the Serpentine, 

As the red fox barked to his sleek-fed mate; 
We ate of the birch of the Restigouche, 

Where the goldfinch whisper and undulate. 
Oh, bright werfe the days, with surcease of care, 

As we fed and grew from our clumsy birth; 
While the woods were green with a shimmering sheen, 

And the sun shone hot on the moss-grown earth. 



Then came the prod from the fleet-flying squad, 

As the gray goose sped to the Chesapeake; 
The leaves grew sere at the slow, dying year. 

And the salmon raced from their spawning creek. 
Our mothers fled from our marsh-sunken bed. 

We browsed no more on the soft lilies' pad; 
From the distant blue came the caribou. 

Rank upon rank — and their temper was bad. 



Their eyes were bad, as they fought for our feed, 

When the air grew chill in the Northern blast, 
And the white flakes fell from the sodden sky, 

On the sleeted lakes, soon frozen hard fast. 
Pure white was the cowl of the arctic owl. 

And soft was his voice from the cedar deep ; 
As we ploughed our yard 'neath the mountain's guard, 

And marked our birch for the long winter's, keep. 



Now, sharp came the clang, as the wood-axe rang, 
" 'Tis man," said our kin, " you must wander afar 

From the sound of his voice and reach of his arm, 
For his song is death and his hand is war." 



THE SONG OF THE MOOSE 353 

The blue wisps curled from the lone logger's hut, 
Far down in the depths of the silent wood; 

And shouts came loud from the boisterous crowd, 
As they sapped the strength of the forest's blood. 



We were taught to fend, with a lunge and bend, 

The spring of the l3nix, with his snarling yelp; 
We were shown to ride, with a single stride, 

The charge of the wolf and his whining whelp. 
We saw how to strip the birch with our lip. 

And to trample the shoots with our fore-leg weight; 
We learned how to tell a foe by the smell, 

That law in the wood was the law of hate. 



Another year, and the wide ridge was clear, 

As the snow grew less, and the day grew long; 
With a start of the sap we swung from our trap, 

While the chickadee whispered his mating song; 
And the robin came, with feathers of flame, 

To carol a psalm from the budding spray. 
While the chewink's flute, like a minstrel's lute, 

Trilled clear in the balm of the softening day. 



Oh, that life was good in the opening wood, 

As our brothers' horns turned velvet to bone. 
We wandered at will over hummock and hill, 

'Till we found out — alas — we were never alone. 
Man found us there, in our deep, forest lair. 

And plunge as we would in the thicket's gloom, 
We ran on his track and the sign of his pack. 

As he close hunted us down to our doom. 



354 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

There, oft in the dark, we trembled to hark 

To his muffled call, by bank of the pond. 
And to those who lacked in spirit of fear, 

It was death to inquire, and death to respond. 
Oft have we trod on the ranks of the slain. 

As prostrate they lay near some crystal stream; 
Lured to their end by the low, soothmg cry, 

Mocking the mate of a love-longing dream. 



To the whispering rest of the trackless West, 

We travel to live where the range-land is clear. 
Where wolf and bear keep their sheltering lair, 

Where silence is deep and man is not near. 
Few — few are there left from 'merciless war, 

Waged on our ranks, now broken and gone, 
Yet, struggle we must 'gainst slaughtering lust, 

Our end is in view — race-driven, forlorn. 



This is the song which the trapper heard, 

Heard in the gloom of the forest dark, 
Heard of an ancient and vanishing race, 

By the growl and glare of the glimmering spark. 
Heard of the mannish blood-lust and greed. 

Of the withering waste in the rifle's path, 
Song of the steel-clad hullefs speed, 

This is the song of the moose. 



RETROSPECT 

'^rO longer moves the wagon train through clouds of 

roUing dust, 
No longer speaks the musket, foul caked with yellow rust, 
Wild days have passed; the yelping brave has vanished in 

the mists of time. 
Wild fights are o'er, the valiant scout has ceased to cheer 

the firing line. 
The brutish bison herds are gone — the lean coyote sneaks 

here and there. 
Where once the pronghorn fed in peace, and shyly roamed 

the grizzly bear. 
The elk are dead — the puma, too, no longer shrieks his 

wailing cry. 
Where trapper's fires are blazing clear, and sharply light 

the dark'ning sky. 
From out the past, pale forms arise, the shapes of those who 

fought and bled 
On treeless plains of alkali, and bravely found a gory bed. 
The ghostly shapes go riding past; scout, voyageur, and 

priest, 
Chief, warrior, and squaw, who gathered at the trader's 

feast. 
No more their laughter echoes loud, no more their voices rise 

and fall, 
By bed of stream, 'neath aspen's bough, where clumsy Indian 

children sprawl. 

356 



356 FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN 

The chatter of the dance is hushed; the yells of warrior 

bands are gone, 
As — gathering for the dance of death — they held high 

revelry 'till dawn. 
We gaze upon the written page, we marvel that such tales 

are truth, 
Of fighting fierce, of wrangling rude, of scalp-dance and the 

cries of youth. 
Then thankfully we tread the paths, which voyageur and 

trapper bold 
Were wont to tread in olden times, when passions fierce were 

uncontrolled. 
Yes — blood was shed — yes — men were brave, who con- 
quered and who won the West, 
Now there is love where once was strife — the scouts have 

reached their Heavenly rest. 



THE END. 



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(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS 

(Trade Mark) 

VACATION 
THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES 

(Trade Mark) 

RIDING 
MARY WARE: THE LITTLE COLONEL'S 

CT-TTTIVr (Trade Mark) 

MARY WARE IN TEXAS 

MARY WARE'S PROMISED LAND 

These 12 volumes, boxed as a set, $18.00. 
A— 1 



L. C. PAGE &* CO MP A NY S 



THE LITTLE COLONEL 

(Trade Mark) 

TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY 
THE GIANT SCISSORS 
BIG BROTHER 

Special Holiday Editions 
Each one volume, cloth decorative, small quarto, $1.25 
New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page 
drawings in color, and many marginal sketches. 

IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: The Legend 

OF Camelback Mountain. 

THE THREE WEAVERS: A Fairy Tale for 
Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their 
Daughters. 

KEEPING TRYST 

THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART 

THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: 

A Fairy Play for Old and Young. 

THE JESTER'S SWORD 

Each one volume, tall 16mo, cloth decorative . $0.50 

Paper boards .35 

There has been a constant demand for publication in 
separate form of these six stories which were originally 
included in six of the " Little Colonel ' books. 

JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE: Bt Annie Fellows 

Johnston. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. 
New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel 
Books, 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 

A story of the time of Ghriat, whieh is one of the author's 
bestrknown books. 

4— S 



BOOKS FOR YaUNG PEOPLE 



THE LITTLE COLONEL GOOD TIMES BOOK 

Uniform in size with the Little Colonel kSeries . $1.50 
Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold . 3.06 

Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg. 
Publi;ihed in response to many inquiries from readers 
of the Little Colonel books as to where they could obtain 
a " Good Times Book " such as Betty kept. 
THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK 

Large quarto, boards $1 . 50 

A series of " Little Colonel " dolls. There are man}' of 
them and each has several changes of costume, so that 
the happy group can be appropriately clad for the re- 
hearsal of any scene or incident ia the series. 
ASA HOLMES; Or, At the Cross-Roads. By 
Annie Fellows Johnston. 
With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery. 

Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top $1 . 00 

" ' Asa Holmes; or. At the Cross-Roads ' is the most 
delightful, most sympathetic and wholesome book that 
has been published in a long while." — Boston Times. 
TRAVELERS FIVE: ALONG LIFE'S HIGH- 
WAY. By Annie Fellows Johnston. 
With an introduction by BUss Carman, and a frontis- 
piece by E. H. Garrett. 

Cloth decorative $1 . 25 

" Mrs. Johnston's . . . are of the character that cause 

the mind to grow gravely meditative, the eyes to shine 

ynth. tender mist, and the heart strings to stir to strange, 

sweet music of human sympathy." — Los Angeles Graphic. 

THE RIVAL CAMPERS; Or, The Adventures 

OP Henry Burns. By Ruel Perley Smith. 

Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1 . 50 

A story of a party of typical American lads, courageous, 

alert, and athletic, who spend a summer camping on an 

island off the Maine coast. 

THE RIVAL CAMPERS AFLOAT; Or, Thb 
Prize Yacht Viking. By Ruel Perley Smith. 
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1 50 
This book is a continuation of the adventures of " The 
Rival Campers " on their pri^e yaeht Viking. 
A--3 



Z. C. PAGE &' COMPANY'S 



THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE 

By RuEL Perley Smith. 

Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . SI . 50 

" As interesting ashore as when afloat." — The Interior. 

THE RIVAL CAMPERS AMONG THE 
OYSTER PIRATES; Or, Jack Harvey's Adven- 
tures. By RuEL Perley Smith. Illustrated . $1.50 
" Just the type of book which is most popular with lads 

who are in their early teens." — The Philadelphia Item. 

A TEXAS BLUE BONNET 

By Caroline Emilia Jacobs (Emilia Elliott). 

12mo, illustrated .$1.50 

" The book's heroine Blue Bonnet has the very finest 
kind of wholesome, honest lively girlishness and cannot 
but make friends with every one who meets her through 
the book as medium." — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY 

A Sequel to " A Texas Blue Bonnet." By Caroline 
Elliott Jacobs and Edyth Ellerbeck Read. 

12mo, illustrated $1.50 

The new story begins where the first volume leaves off 
and takes Blue Bonnet and the " We Are Seven Club " 
to the ranch in Texas. The tables are completely turned: 
Blue Bonnet is here in her natural element, while her 
friends from Woodford have to learn the customs and 
traditions of another world. 

THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE 

Or, Peggy Raymond's Success. By Harriet Lum- 

Mis Smith. 

12mo, illustrated $150 

This is a book that will gladden the hearts of many 
girl readers because of its charming air of comradeship 
and reality. It is a very interesting group of girls who 
live on Friendly Terrace and their good times and other 
times are graphically related by the author, who shows 
a sympathetic knowledge of girl character. 

A-4 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION; Oh, Fkiendlt 

Terrace Transplanted. 

A Sequel to " The Girls of Friendly Terrace." By 

Harriet Lummis Smith. 

Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1.50 

Readers who made the acquaintance of Peggy Ray- 
mond and her bevy of girl chums in " The Girls of Friendly 
Terrace " will be glad to continue the acquaintance of 
these attractive j'oung folks. 

Several new characters are introduced, and one at least 
will prove a not unworthy rival of the favorites among 
the Terrace girls. 

THE HADLEY HALL SERIES 

By LOUISE M. BREITENBACH 

Each, library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1 . 50 

ALMA AT HADLEY HALL 

'' Miss Breitenbach is to be congratulated on having 
written such an appealing book for girls, and the girls 
are to be congratulated on having the privilege of reading 
it." — The Detroit Free Press. 

ALMA'S SOPHOMORE YEAR 

" The characters are strongly drawn with a life-like 
realism, the incidents are well and progressively se- 
quenced, and the action is so well timed that the interest 
never slackens." — Boston Ideas. 



THE SUNBRIDGE GIRLS AT SIX STAR 
RANCH. By Eleanor Stuart. 
Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1.50 
Any girl of any age who is fond of outdoor life will 
appreciate this fascinating tale of Genevieve Hartley's 
summer vacation house-party on a Texas ranch. Gene- 
vieve and her friends are real girls, the kind that one 
would like to have in one's own home, and there are a 
couple of manly boys introduced. 
A— 5 



L. C. PAGE &- COMPANY'S 



BEAUTIFUL JOE'S PARADISE; Or, The Island 
OF Brotherly Love. A Sequel to " Beautiful Joe." 
By Marshall Saunders, author of " Beautiful Joe." 
One vol., library 12mo, cloth illustrated . . $1.50 
" This book revives the spirit of ' Beautiful Joe ' capi- 
tally. It is fairly riotous with fun, and is about as unusual 
as anything in the animal book line that has seen the 
light." — Philadelphia Item. 
'TILDA JANE. By Marshall Saunders. 

One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50 
" It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books 
that win and charm the reader, and I did not put it down 
until I had finished it — honest! And I am sure that every 
one, young or old, who reads will be proud and happy to 
make the acquaintance of the delicious waif. 

" I cannot think of any better book for children than 
this. I commend it unreservedly." — Cyrus T. Brady. 
'TILDA JANE'S ORPHANS. A Sequel to '"TUda 
Jane." By Marshall Saunders. 

One vol., 12mo, fully illusti'ated, cloth decorative, $1.50 
'Tilda Jane is the same original, delightful girl, and as 
fond of her animal pets as ever. 

" There is so much to this story that it is almost a novel 

— in fact it is better than many novels, although written 

for only young people. Compared with much of to-day's 

juveniles it is quite a superior book." — Chicago Tribune. 

THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS. By 

Marshall Saunders, author of " Beautiful Joe's 

Paradise," " 'Tilda Jane," etc. 

Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B. 

Barry . . . $1.50 

Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and 

triumphs, of a delightful New England family. 

PUSSY BLACK - FACE. By Marshall Saunders, 

author of " 'Tilda Jane," " 'Tilda Jane's Orphans," etc. 

Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1.50 

This is a dehghtful little story of animal life, written 

in this author's best vein, dealing especially with Pussy 

Black-Face, a little Beacon Street (Boston) kitten, who ia 

the narrator. 

A— 6 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES 

By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON 
Each, large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1.59 

FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS 

Biographical sketches, with anecdotes and reminiscenses, 
of the heroes of history who were leaders of cavalry. 

" More of ^ch books should be written, books that 
acquaint young readers with historical personages in a 
pleasant informal way." — A''. Y . Sun. 
FAMOUS INDLA.N CHIEFS 

In this book Mr. Johnston gives interesting sketches of 
the Indian braves who have figured with prominence in 
the history of our own land. 

FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVEN- 
TURERS OF THE SEA 

In this volume Mr. Johnston tells interesting stories 
about the famous sailors of fortune. 

FAMOUS SCOUTS 

" It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascina- 
tion for boys and young men and while it entertains them 
it will also present valuable information in regard to those 
who have left their impress upon the history of the country. 
— The New London Day. 

FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES 
OF THE BORDER 

This book is devoted to a description of the adventur- 
ous lives and stirring experiences of many pioneer heroes 
who were prominently identified with the opening of the 
great west. 

RALPH SOMERBY AT PANAMA 

By Francis Raleigh. 

Large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1.50 
Real buccaneers who overran the Spanish main, and 
adventurers who figured prominently in the sack of 
Panama, all enter into the life of Ralph Somerby, a young 
EngUsh lad, on his way to the colony in Jamaica. After 
a year of wandering and adventure he covers the route of 
the present Panama Canal. 
A— 7 



Z. C. PAGE &' COMPANY'S 

THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL 

By Makion Ames Taggart. 

One vol., !i!:)rary 12mo, illustrated . . . $1.50 

A thoroughly enjoyable tale of a little girl and her com- 
rade father, written in a delightful vein of sympathetic 
comprehension of the child's point of view. 

" The characters are strongly drawn with a life-like real- 
ism, the incidents are well and progressively sequenced, 
and the action is so well timed that the interest never 
slackens." — Boston Ideas. 

SWEET NANCY 

The Further Adventures of the Doctor's Little 

Girl. By Marion Ames Taggart. 

One vol., library 12mo, illustrated . . . $1.50 

In the new book, the author tells how Nancy becomes 
in fact " the doctor's assistant," and continues to shed 
happiness around her. 

NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PART- 
NER 

By Marion Ames Taggart. 

One vol., library 12mo, illustrated . . . $1.50 
In Nancy Porter, Miss Taggart has created one of the 
most lovable child characters in recent years. In the 
new story she is the same bright and cheerful little maid. 

NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY 

By Marion Ames Taggart. 

One vol., library 12mo, illustrated . . $1.50 

Already as the " doctor's partner " Nancy Porter has 
won the affection of her readers, and in the same lovable 
manner she continues in the new book to press the key- 
notes of optimism and good-will. 

BORN TO THE BLUE 

By Florence Kimball Russel. 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.25 
The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on 
every page of this delightful tale. The boy is the son of a 
captain of U. S. cavalry stationed at a frontier post in the 
days when our regulars earned the gratitude of a nation. 
A— 8 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



IN WEST POINT GRAY 

By Florence I\jmbaijL Russel. 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 
" Singularly enough one of the best books of the year 
for boys is written by a woman and deals with life at West 
Point. The presentment of life in the famous military 
academy whence so many heroes have graduated is realistic 
and enjoyable." — New York Sun. 

THE SANDMAN: HIS FARM STORIES 

By William J, Hopkins. With fifty illustrations by 

Ada Clendenin Williamson. 

Large 12mo, decorative cover .... $1.50 

" An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of 
very small children. It should be one of the most popular 
of the year's books for reading to small children." — 
Buffalo Express. 

THE SANDMAN: MORE FARM STORIES 

By William J. Hopkins. 

Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 

Mr. Hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories met with 

such approval that this second book of " Sandman " tales 

was issued for scores of eager children. Life on the farm, 

and out-of-doors, is portrayed in his mimitable manner. 

THE SANDMAN: HIS SHIP STORIES 

By William J. Hopkins, author of " The Sandman: 
His Farm Stories," etc. 

Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 
" Children call for these stories over and over again." — 
Chicago Evening Post. 

THE SANDMAN: HIS SEA STORIES 

By William J. Hopkins. 

Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 

Each year adds to the popularity of this unique series 

of stories to be read to the J'+tle ones at bed time and at 

other times. 

A— 9 



Z. C. PAGE &= COMPANY'S 



THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES 

By HARRISON ADAMS 

Each, 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.25 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO; Or, 

Clearing the Wilderness. 

Boys will follow with ever increasing interest the for- 
tunes of Bob and Sandy Armstrong in their hunting and 
trapping expeditions, and in their adventures with the 
Indians. 

THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES ; 

Or, On the Trail of the Iroquois. 

In this story are introduced all of the principal charac- 
ters of the first volume, and Bob and Sandy learn much 
of life in the open from the French trappers and coureurs 
du hois. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI; 

Or, The Homestead in the Wilderness. 

Telling of how the Armstrong family decides to move 
farther west after an awful flood on the Ohio, and how they 
travelled to the great " Father of Waters " and settled 
on its banks, and of how the pioneer boys had many ad- 
ventures both with wild animals and with the crafty 
Indians. 



HAWK: THE YOUNG OSAGE 

By C. H. Robinson. 

One vol., cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

A fine story of North American Indians. The story 

begins when Hawk is a papoose and follows him until he 

is finally made chief of his tribe. 

THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; Or, Allan West's 

Chum. 

By Burton E. Stevenson. 

Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 

In this book Mr. Stevenson takes up a new branch of 
railroading, namely, the work of the " Shops." 

A— 10 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND; Ob, The Ad- 
ventures OF Allan West. By Burton E. Stevenson. 
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1 . 50 
Mr. Stevenson's hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is 

given a chance as a section-hand on a big Western rail- 
road, and whose experiences are as real as they are thrilUnfe. 

THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER. By Bur- 
ton E. Stevenson. 

Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1.50 
" A better book for boys has never left an American 

press . " — Springfield Union . 

THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER. By Burton E. 
Stevenson. 

Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1 . 50 
" Nothing better in the way of a book of adventure for 

boys." — Boston Herald. 

CAPTAIN JACK LORIMER; By Winn Standish. 
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1 . 50 

Jack is a fine example of the American high-school boy. 

JACK LORIMER'S CHAMPIONS; Or, Sports 
ON Land and Lake. By Winn Standish. 
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1.50 
" It is exactly the sort of book to give a boy interested 

in athletics." — Chicago Tribune. 

JACK LORIMER'S HOLIDAYS; Or, Millvale 
High in Camp. By Winn Standish. 
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1 . 50 
Full of just the kind of fun, sports and adventure to 

excite the healthy minded youngster to emulation. 

JACK LORIMER'S SUBSTITUTE: Or, The Act- 
ing Captain op the Team. By Winn Standish. 
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1.50 

On the sporting side, this book takes up football, wres- 
tling, and tobogganing. 

JACK LORIMER, FRESHMAN. By Winn 
Standish. 

Square 12nio, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1.50 
This book is typical of the American college boys' life 

and is a lively story. 

A— 11 



Z. C. PAGE &> COMPANY'S 



GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK 

By EvALEEN Stein. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and deco- 
rated in colors by Adelaide Everhart . . $1.00 
Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who 
assisted the monks in the long ago days, when all the books 
were written and illuminated by hand, in the monasteries. 
" No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the 
elements that stir the hearts of children and grown-ups as 
well as do the stories so admirably told by this author." 
— Louisville Daily Courier. 

A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE 

By EvALEEN Stein. 

Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by Diantha H. Marlowe $1 . 25 

" The story should be one of the influences in the life 

of every child to whom good stories can be made to 

appeal." — Public Ledger. 

THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY 

By EvALEEN Stein. 

Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by John Goss . . $1.25 
" This touching and pleasing story is told with a wealth 
of interest coupled with enlivening descriptions of the 
country where its scenes are laid and of the people there- 
of." — Wilmington Every Evening. 

ALYS-ALL-ALONE 

By Una Macdonald. 

Cloth, 12mo, illustrated . . . . . . $1 . 50 

" This is a most delightful, well-written, heart-stirring, 

happy ending story, which will gladden the heart of many 

a reader." — Scranton Times. 

ALYS IN HAPPYLAND. A Sequel to " Alys-AU 
Alone." By Una Macdonald. 

Cloth, 12mo, illustrated $1 . 50 

" The book is written M-ith that taste and charm_ that 
prepare younger readers for the appreciation of good litera- 
ture when they are older." — Chicago Tribune. 

A— X2 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



THE 

Little Cousin Series 

(trade mark) 

Each volume illustrated with six or more full page plates in 

tint. Cloth, i2mo, with decorative cover, 

per volume, 60 cents 

LIST OF TITLES 

By Mary Hazelton Wade, Mary F. 

NixoN-RouLET, Blanche McManus, 

Clara V. Winlow, Florence E. 

Mendel and Others 

Our Little African Cousin Our Little Hungarian Cousin 

Our Little Alaskan Cousin Our Little Indian Cousin 

Our Little Arabian Cousin Our Little Irish Cousin 

Our Little Argentine Cousin Our Little Italian Cousin 

Our Little Armenian Cousin Our Little Japanese Cousin 

Our Little Australian Cousin Our Little Jewish Cousin 

Our Little Austrian Cousin Our Little Korean Cousin 

Our Little Belgian Cousin Our Little Malayan (Brown) 
Our Little Bohemian Cousin Cousin 

Our Little Brazilian Cousin Our Little Mexican Cousin 

Our Little Bulgarian Cousin Our Little Norwegian Cousin 

Our Little Canadian Cousin Our Little Panama Cousin 

Our Little Chinese Cousin Our Little Persian Cousin 

Our Little Cuban Cousin Our Little Philippine Cousin 

Oixr Little Danish Cousin Our Little Polish Cousin 

Our Little Dutch Cousin Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

Our Little Egyptian Cousin Our Little Portuguese Cousin 

Our Little English Cousin Our Little Russian Cousin 

Our Little Eskimo Cousin Our Little Scotch Cousin 

Our Little French Cousin Our Little Servian Cousin 

Our Little German Cousin Our Little Siamese Cousin 

Our Little Grecian Cousin Our Little Spanish Cousin 

Our Little Hawaiian Cousin Our Little Swedish Cousin 

Our Little Hindu Cousin Our Little Swiss Cousin 

Our Little Turkish Cousin 
A— 13 



L. C. PAGE &' COMPANY'S 



THE LITTLE COUSINS OF LONG 
AGO SERIES 

The publishers have concluded that a companion series 
to " The Little Cousin Series," giving the e very-day child 
life of ancient times will meet with approval, and like the 
other series will be welcomed by the children as well as 
by their elders. The volumes of this new series are accu- 
rate both historically and in the description of every-day 
life of the time, as well as interesting to the cliild. 

Small 12mo, cloth, illustrated 60c 

OUR LITTLE ROMAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE ATHENIAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

THE PHYLLIS SERIES 

By LENORE E. MULETS 

Each, one volume, cloth decorated, illustrated , $1.25 

PHYLLIS' INSECT STORIES 

PHYLLIS' FLOWER STORIES 

PHYLLIS' BIRD STORIES 

PHYLLIS' STORIES OF LITTLE ANIMALS 

PHYLLIS' STORIES OF BIG ANIMALS 

PHYLLIS' TREE STORIES 

PHYLLIS' STORIES OF LITTLE FISHES 

" An original idea cleverly carried out. The volumes 
afford the best kind of entertainment; and the little girl 
heroine of them all will find friends in the girls of every 
part of the country. No juveniles can be commended 
more heartily." — St. Louis Olobe-Democrat. 
A— 14 



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